


Luck Only Lends

by catastrotaffy



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Animal Death, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Deathclaws, Explicit Sexual Content, Eye Trauma, M/M, Nuka World, Radscorpions, Recreational Drug Use, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 47,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrotaffy/pseuds/catastrotaffy
Summary: This ought to be a love story about a little raider who just wants to find out the identity of Nuka World's mysterious radio broadcaster, but everyone knows when you complete one fallout quest, there's always a whole lot more that open up to take its place...





	1. Luck Only Lends

_Manhattan, October 23rd, 2077_

He was choking. He was burning. All at once, every pain a human could feel was set upon him, as if hell itself had opened up and swallowed him down. The towering buildings of the great city he called home were crumbling into dust and debris, blasted away by balls of fire and shockwaves from mushroom shaped clouds. He dragged in a great lungful of acidic air that burned and choked. When he coughed it was wet; blood stained his lips and teeth.

The apocalyptic light from the explosion had blinded him, sparing him from the sight of the city he loved as it burned around him.

There was nothing but darkness.

But New Yorkers are hard to kill.

 

**Luck Only Lends**

 

_The Commonwealth, 2287_

Rain lashed down upon the remnants of the once thriving theme park. When the nuclear fires had raged and consumed everything in their path, the park seemed to have been somehow spared although for two hundred years it had been battered by the weather, nuclear storms and vicious wildlife who sought to reclaim it. Now the current tenants of Nuka World were hoards of raiders who had turned the park into a dangerous hub for the three gangs that dominated the park, living in an awkward and tense truce at the declaration of their overboss, Colter.

From beneath a stretch of weathered tarpaulin, Brian Sinclair -or Bloodmouth as he was known to his fellow raiders- casually leaned back against some crates as he watched the rain splash down. With a scowl he lifted his feet onto one of the crates, crossing his legs at the ankle, thick mud and water dripping from the leather of his boots. This kind of weather did not lend itself well to any kind of shenanigans. Although Brian labelled himself a raider, he did not fit into any of the gangs, as much was evident by his lack of gang colours. Truthfully he did not even look the part of any kind of raider, dressed in a vastly oversized winter jacket more like a roaming wastelander or trader. Brian, small and sharp featured, was allowed to remain in the park for two reasons: he was good at providing meat to those too lazy to hunt for themselves, and he had an infamous reputation about the dubious origins of the meat he supplied.

Idly Brian watched a group of three raiders slopping through the rain and mud; they looked dejected and wet. He turned away, sharply losing interest, and reached over to turn up a crackling radio set so he could hear it over the thrum of the rain. Brian nodded his head along with the radio host’s latest song, grinning at the comedic lyrics. He was a large fan of the station and its mysterious DJ who simply went by the moniker of RedEye. No one seemed to know where the broadcast came from and most had no idea what the host looked like. Brian had been on a private quest since he had arrived at the park to figure out the identity of the guitar-playing raider.

The rain showed no sign of slowing so Brian decided to retreat to the warmth of the indoors. Nimbly he made his way toward home, slipping from cover to cover to avoid the deluge, his boots splashing in the filthy puddles. As soon as he reached the end of the Main Street, Brian turned a despondent eye toward his home and the vast expanse of open space between him and it.

“Ugh, are you fucking kidding?” Brian griped.

He pulled his hood over his head, trails of water dripping from the furred trim as he weighed his chances of making it home without getting utterly soaked. Ultimately he decided he would seek refuge in Cappy’s Cafe: a former diner that the raiders had repurposed as a gritty and often dangerous bar.

Brian squinted in the gloom inside the bar as he slopped over to the counter. He figured he may as well get a drink while he was there, so perching nearby a flaming trash can to dry off, he ordered a bottle of beer. In the background of the bar the radio played and Brian wistfully listened to a tune about a lost love.

“Dedication,” Brian muttered to no one in particular.

The barmaid turned in his direction with a cocked eyebrow. “You say somethin’?”

“I said dedication.” Brian motioned toward the radio with his bottle, “guy never goes off the air.”

She cast him a withering glance. “Darlin’ you know that's a recording, right? I heard him sing this exact same tune this mornin’. You listen carefully an’ you’ll hear little things that give it away.” She folded her arms and looked down at the skinny, soaked raider at her bar, “that and he’ll tell the exact same story at the end. Ain’t nobody talk the same way twice unless they’s a synth.”

Brian blinked dumbly. The thought that the radio he often listened to wasn't entirely live had never occurred to him. He listened to the song right until the end when its singer exhaled forlornly, proclaimed that love hurts before sharply switching gear and insisting he only knew this on account of being told so by a friend.

The barmaid mouthed along with the entire spiel, raising her eyebrows at Brian at the end.

“Told you so.”

Brian looked down at his bottle in an effort to avoid the smug face of the barmaid who he wished would go back to cleaning glasses or bothering someone else.

“Huh, speak of the devil.”

The barmaid nodded at someone and Brian whirled around to see who. The man who approached them took a seat on the stool by Brian, ignoring him completely.

“Hey hey,” he greeted the barmaid, and immediately his identity was given away by his voice.

Brian's heart thumped and he drew in his breath, suddenly and very unusually lost for words. He had spent many hours imagining what RedEye looked like but he had never pictured the dark skinned man who sat beside him. Surprisingly well groomed by raider standards, his hair cut into a short, angular style that tapered into sideburns, RedEye chatted quietly to the barmaid with obvious familiarity.

“--and this one here thought you were on the air twenty four hours a day.”

Brian found himself dragged into the conversation, and he was both grateful and annoyed about his introduction.

RedEye laughed, “man, I can't imagine being that committed to anything!” For the first time RedEye turned his attention to Brian, who he looked over with curiosity. “I ain’t never seen you before,” he observed, his eyes flicking over Brian’s clothes, “no gang huh?”

Brian shook his head, “nah, I'm not into any of that, I'm just doing my own thing.”

“Mmm.”

RedEye looked as if he was losing interest and he made to turn back to the bar. Brian panicked, and quickly racked his brain for something else to say. “You do great work,” he blurted out, scolding himself for sounding like a silly fan. Maybe he could appeal to RedEye's vanity. “I listen to you all the time.”

“You got good taste, uh…?”

“Bloodmouth.”

Immediately Brian wanted to kick himself. What was wrong with him? He ought to have used his normal name. However, RedEye’s attention seemed to have been caught. He turned his body to face Brian and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

“Bloodmouth? As in the guy who eats people?”

“Right, that's me,” Brian nodded.

RedEye laughed a genuinely amused laugh. “I always figured you would be a lot more intimidating. And bigger. Man, there are some wild stories about you!”

For a moment Brian was stunned back into silence. He quickly gathered his thoughts and turned on the charm; if this was what he had to work with, he could make it happen. “That's just the stories you've heard,” he drawled.

“ _You’re_ Bloodmouth?” the barmaid interrupted. She laughed, loudly and incredulously, drawing the attention of more than one pair of eyes from around the bar. “Look at you, skinny little thing! You ain’t never eaten nobody. Looks like you ain’t never eaten nothin’!”

“I swear to fuck I will eat you if you don’t shut up,” Brian growled at the barmaid, attempting to keep his voice low.

He didn’t want to draw anyone else into this. He could feel curious gazes boring into him from all around the room. The stupid barmaid had drawn so much attention to him, and as if to make matters worse, the one person he wanted to talk to was watching him suspiciously. Before he could make any chance at rectifying the situation, one of the raiders who had been watching interrupted, shoving himself directly in front of Brian with one arm on the bar.

“Hey man, lay off her,” he warned in a gravelly voice.

Brian felt his shoulders slump in exasperation at the wannabe white knight. With a completely bored expression, he looked the raider from head to toe, appraising his skimpy, spiked armour. He didn’t look like he belonged to any gang either, and his attitude reeked of him being new to the park since playing the hero was virtually unheard of amongst raiders.

“Fine,” Brian drawled, his voice oozing with boredom. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his icy blue eyes glinting in the firelight.

In the bat of an eyelid, the bar erupted into chaos. A crash of fallen bar stools accompanied the heavy thud as the interrupting raider hit the floor with the unexpected weight of the infamous Bloodmouth upon him. Winded from his fall, he was unable to throw the far smaller, lighter raider from him for precious seconds that cost him dearly. A gurgling, choking scream came from his mouth as teeth sank into his throat.

With all the strength he could muster, fueled by anger and adrenaline, Brian bit down through layers of skin, fat and muscle, blood flooding his mouth. He knew where to bite and when his victim struggled he simply clamped his teeth tighter together. With one vicious twist, he tore out a chunk of flesh, spitting it onto the dirty floor tiles. In the ragged circular wound, torn veins pulsated, spraying blood that pooled upon the ground.

Thick, viscous blood oozed down Brian's chin. He licked his gore covered lips and turned a malicious grin to the other raiders who looked at him with a healthy mix of fear and respect. Cackling, Brian turned back to his victim. The body twitched and convulsed with the last remnants of life, so Brian sat back to pick at his teeth, dislodging a stringy chunk of raw meat. The bite wound in the throat of the dead raider was impressively large, and he admired his handiwork before pushing himself to his feet, picking up his stool and sitting back down on it.

Sharply, Brian snapped his bloody teeth at the barmaid. “Believe me now?”

“Real impressive, hon. I’m sure we’ll be hearin’ all about this on the radio tomorrow.”

Brian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked about, realising suddenly that RedEye had disappeared.

The barmaid smirkingly watched him, her keen and observant eyes reading him like a book. “Great first impression by the way.”


	2. Tooth and Nail

The place Brian called home was situated at the base of the grand, fake mountain that dominated the landscape of Nuka World and had once been proud home to the Fizztop Grille, a restaurant at the very top of the monumental pile of fiberglass and cement. Somewhere up there the overboss now lived, but for Brian that was very insignificant information. He had chosen his home based on the barely noticeable entrance, hidden away years ago by artful designers who had placed it so as not to break the illusion of the park. An ‘employees only’ sign was still printed in peeling, faded text on the door.

A solid thump announced Brian’s latest kill as he dropped it onto a sturdy table covered in stains and scarred by countless knife cuts. Gloom and darkness surrounded him, only helped by a few flickering bulbs that served to illuminate the true purpose of the hallway: every few feet, butchered animal carcasses swung from the ceiling, the source of how Brian made a living. He had been awake early, had roamed out into the wasteland surrounding Nuka World to hunt, telling himself he needed to replenish his stocks of meat. The hunting proved a welcome distraction from the events of the day before.

He began slicing through the carcass, concentrating hard on removing the pelt of the dead animal in one solid piece. Skinning was difficult and he was still learning, but he thought he would like to have a gazelle rug in his house. With nimble fingers Brian separated skin from muscle, happily working away: in his opinion he had improved greatly. Although barely audible, a radio set crackled in the background and Brian winced as he wondered if it was a recording or not that was playing. Would he be mentioned on air? If so, would he be talked about with respect or mockery? Typically such things wouldn’t have bothered him but he had failed so spectacularly at making a good impression on the one person he wanted to impress that a bloated sense of self-consciousness had settled in his gut.

There was a sudden booming clang of metal against metal. Brian hissed as his knife slipped and he poked a hole straight through the pelt. Angrily he raised his head to see what had disturbed him, and he was met with the sight of a trio of raiders that had entered the far end of his meat hall. 

“What the fuck?” Brian snarled. He turned away from his kill, slid his knife into his pocket and snatched up a barbed-wire wrapped baseball bat that had been propped against the table. “What do you guys want?” Brian hollered.

The raiders froze momentarily, giving away the fact that they hadn’t expected anyone to be there. Their leader seemed to instruct the other two to spread out but amongst the swinging carcasses, Brian was disguised, and no one knew the meat hall like he did. Quiet as a shadow, he stalked closer until he could see the three raiders. They didn’t seem to be wearing gang clothes, just basic armour adorned with spikes and straps like typical commonwealth scum. 

“Fuck is this place?” one of the raiders hissed to his companion. All three of them looked uneasy.

“My meat hall,” Brian grinned. 

Lunging from the shadows, he brought his baseball bat back and swung it with vicious intent. A sickening crunch filled the air as the bat collided with the head of the nearest raider, blood spraying onto the nearby meat. Brian’s grin spread wider when his victim slumped to the ground, the other two instantly on the attack. He was too fast for them, taking out one by embedding his bat into their neck, ripping it away along with a chunk of ragged flesh to a grotesque gurgling sound. The last of the intruders, presumably their leader, had a gun which he fired haphazardly into the shadows, disoriented by the swinging meat and darkness.

Melting back into the shadows, Brian circled around the raider until he was behind him. This was almost too easy, so he decided to toy with the spooked man, keeping his distance and letting the tension rise. 

“Where the fuck are you?” the intruding raider called out. His voice sounded uncertain. 

“Right here,” Brian hissed from behind him. He brought his bat down with a crunch on the back of the raiders’ knees, sending him tumbling forward onto the cracked tile floor. In an instant Brian leapt forward onto his back, pinning him down. “Fuck are you doing in my house?” Brian snapped. He brought his bat down onto the raiders’ hand that held the gun, watching it skitter across the floor.

“What the fuck do you think! Raiding! Let me go you crazy fuck!” 

“Raid somewhere else you fucking piece of shit,” Brian growled. “This is my fucking house.” To emphasise his point, he grabbed the hair of the intruder, raised his head and slammed it back down hard. He repeated this action several more times until a choking, gurgling sound reached his ears and he smiled in ghoulish delight. “Lights out. I’m keeping you for later.”

* * *

The bodies of the dead raiders had been scraped off the floor, not before Brian had battered them in the head several more times to make sure they were dead. Carefully he had strung them up out of sight near the back of his meat hall, their belongings looted and stashed away. The live raider was kept restrained in a large cage. Brian had never stopped to question why the ancient theme park had a cage, or who had put it there but it certainly had its uses.

He hummed to himself; the day had been productive and busy, and he felt he deserved a reward. Brian reached into the cooler he kept on his work table and was dismayed when his fingers grasped nothing but air. He had forgotten to bring back any beer or Nuka Dark, the alcoholic variant of Nuka Cola.

“Fuck’s sake,” Brian griped. Wiping his hands on a nearby rag he realised he would have to either go to Cappy’s or to the market to get a drink.

He chose the market.

Nuka Town market was home to numerous traders, all wearing shock collars. One of them was responsible for being the public face of Brian’s meat trade but Brian was disinterested in seeing how the meat had been moving as he slinked into the round market space. All things considered, it was one of the safest places in Nuka World, but it was also somewhere that the radio blared continually, and Brian had suddenly become very reluctant to listen to the radio.

He had intended to go in, find which trader had beer, and take all of it home with him. Things never went so smoothly for Brian however. Trouble always seemed to find him, even in the most mundane, safe spaces. The first inkling of something being wrong had come when he had been selecting his drinks and the trader’s eyes had betrayed a sense of fear. Brian glanced behind himself to see two raiders approaching him. He set down his bottles and turned to face them, glancing at each face as he tried to pinpoint who exactly they were.

“You Bloodmouth?” the male raider asked. He stood a good foot higher than Brian and was at least twice as wide. 

“That’s him alright, ain’t nobody else wears that fuckin’ stupid coat,” his female crony snickered. She looked twitchy and restless, probably the result of some chem or other surging through her bloodstream.

“Ain’t nobody ask you, Needles,” he snarled. He turned back to Brian, “well?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“We heard on the radio that someone got their throat cut over at Cappy’s and our boy, Gnash, he didn’t come back last night. We heard some punk called Bloodmouth did it--”

“Gnash?” Brian laughed. He puffed his chest out and stood his ground. “Really? That was his name? I didn’t cut his fucking throat, I tore it out with my teeth.”

The two raiders exchanged a glance between themselves, although Brian couldn’t decipher their thoughts. He knew the lifestyle enough to know that a fight was almost certainly about to break out, and he had made the mistake of leaving his weapon at home.

“Fuck him up, Spike!” the female raider known as Needles called out, a pair of knuckledusters glinting on her hands.

The duo closed in, and Brian backed away until he was pressed against the table of the stall he had been browsing. He reached behind himself, his fingers closing around a bottle that was potentially his only weapon. A flash of silver shone before his eyes as Spike swung a knife, barely missing the skin of Brian’s face. In retaliation, Brian brought the bottle around from behind his back and the next time Spike swung at him, his arm was met with shattering glass and spraying beer.

Needles instantly sprung into action. Brian swung his broken bottle, pleased when he saw blood splash from a wound he landed on her arm. She was wild and barely seemed to notice the cut, her fists lashing out and striking any part of Brian that was within reach. He was thankful for his coat, the bagginess made it difficult to aim an attack that actually hit the body beneath, but when she did land one upon his shoulder, he felt as if she had shattered bone.

Brian flinched and gritted his teeth, distracted long enough for the female raider to land another blow, this time directly on his face, right on his jaw. She was much stronger than she looked, and Brian was thrown off balance. His head hit the ground with a crack that reverberated right through his skull, accompanied by a spiking whiteness that filled his eyes with stars. 

A gunshot exploded through the air. Brian’s attackers never resumed their onslaught, but from his position on the floor, Brian never saw what happened to them. Temporarily he was paralysed, literally knocked senseless until a jolting pain shot through his jaw. Needles had managed to dislodge and shatter one of his teeth, and the pain was excruciating. Even the throbbing in his skull paled in comparison to the agony in his jaw. 

Brian considered picking himself up off the ground but the pain in his head caused him to do nothing but lie in a loose ball, breathing raggedly through his nose, his mouth hanging open like a dog. He cautiously dabbed at the tooth with his tongue and the metallic taste of his own blood instantly flooded his mouth. Brian pushed himself into a sitting position, his arms shaking with the effort, his body protesting and screaming at him to stay still. 

“Are you okay? If they killed you, they were robbing me of a sale.” 

Brian tilted his head to meet the gaze of the trader, who was holding a shotgun. He nodded weakly, surprised more than anything that the market traders even had weapons. 

Gingerly he slid a finger into his mouth and prodded the broken tooth, immediately wincing and recoiling as if he had touched a raw nerve, which he supposed he almost had. He steeled himself and with difficulty took hold of the tooth, the fingers of his free hand curled around his lower teeth to keep his jaw open. In Brian’s mind, the only logical way to solve the pain in his head was to remove the source of the problem, and that had to be the tooth. It had to be. 

Brian gave himself to the count of three before tugging on the loose tooth, which slipped and slid out of his grasp, slick with saliva and blood. With difficulty considering his mouth was open and mostly full of his own fingers, he let out a choked wail of pain. He tightened his grip, digging in his nails and screwing his eyes shut, and after several more agonising seconds the tooth came loose with a satisfying pop. The relief wasn't as instant as Brian had hoped, so he leaned back and stared at the sky as he tolerated the throbbing. His remaining teeth were red with gore; gore that trailed down his chin in streams of bloody saliva and caught in his scraggly attempt at a beard. In his hand he clutched the troublesome tooth, somehow reluctant to get rid of it.

“Woah, are you done?” asked the trader.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m done. Gimme that beer.” 

Brian pushed himself to his feet. He was dismayed to find that he had stained the front of his tank top; a dark mark spread across the faded green fabric, adding to its already grimy appearance. He placed his tooth carefully in his coat pocket and drew out a handful of caps, tossing them on the trader’s table before gathering up his beer. He offered a mumbled thanks for saving his life before stalking away.

“Bloodmouth!” a voice called once Brian was several feet away from the stall.

“Fuck off,” Brian mumbled. He paused to spit a glob of bloody saliva onto the ground. His entire head was pounding and his shoulder ached.

“Where's the love!” the voice joked.

Brian felt his blood turn to ice. He raised his head and coldly looked in the direction that the voice had come from. This was the last thing he wanted; he wouldn’t even be in this situation if the man approaching him hadn’t decided to announce his deeds to the whole park. 

“Hello, RedEye,” Brian nodded coldly. He was beginning to regret the day that he had set out to discover the identity of the DJ.

RedEye against a nearby wall, a grin stretched across his face. “When they tell the story of Bloodmouth and how he ate people, I’m going to be all ‘ _ no way man, he got that name because he pulled out a bad tooth! _ ’ And people will be like,  _ pfft _ , that's not even that cool.”

Slowly and painfully, Brian blinked, annoyed by RedEye’s chipper attitude. “Maybe next time don’t tell any stories about me because I just got my tooth knocked out--”

“Pulled out. By you.”

Brian bristled. “Okay, whatever. Point is I got attacked by those fucks because you can’t shut up. Find something better to talk about. I just want to drink my beer in peace.”

“I tell it like it is,” RedEye shrugged. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Aw, for fucks sake.” Brian, tired of his own blood, sniffed and wiped his nose with the heel of his hand. His vision seemed to be blurring and becoming darker around the edges and he blinked furiously in an attempt to clear it.

Before RedEye could respond, Brian swayed unsteadily before his legs turned to jelly and with a strangled yelp he crumpled to the floor. 


	3. Raider Radio

A low, electric hum filled the air of the dimly lit room that Brian woke up in, oddly familiar but too quiet to identify. His face was covered in dried blood; blood which had in turn leaked onto his bedding causing the fabric to stick to his skin. He felt spacey and disconnected from his body, although he didn’t seem to be in any pain, which was an improvement. Through the fog in his head Brian wondered how long he had been sleeping and where he was.

Blinking his blurry eyes, Brian looked about at the room he was in. Shelves lined most of the walls, units stacked high with old books and junk that gave the impression of a neglected and repurposed storage room. He rolled over and discovered a door parallel to the bed; if Brian knew anything, he knew that the door was going to be locked and he was completely out of bobby pins.

Suddenly he realised he was hungry, and he wondered if there was any food about that he could scavenge. Carefully Brian pushed himself to a sitting position and then unsteadily to his feet. He roamed the small room, pulling open drawers to reveal nothing edible or even interesting, just a jumble of clothes, shoved haphazardly inside. In dismay Brian turned his attention to the door, bracing himself for the disappointment when he pulled on the handle. To his surprise and delight, the door swung open to reveal a long corridor lit by flickering lightbulbs.

As he unsteadily shuffled along the corridor, the sound he had heard became louder and he recognised it as the radio, loudest when he hovered by a door with a light above it. The voice in his head told him to leave the room alone, to walk away and find an exit from the unfamiliar building. His hand however strayed to the handle, slowly lowering it and pushing the door open a crack so he could peer inside.

No one seemed to be there, but the interior was fascinating so Brian slipped through the narrow opening and began looking around. The room itself was not large, although it was dominated by rows of desks covered in buttons and dials: strange equipment that Brian didn’t recognise. He fought the urge to start pressing buttons when a sudden movement caught his attention and he realised with a spike of adrenaline that he wasn’t listening to a radio - he was in the place where the radio was broadcast from, and in the centre of all the equipment and mess, a pair of bloodshot eyes were watching him.

Brian raised a hand in greeting, suddenly very self-conscious that he was somewhere where every word he said would be broadcast for everyone to hear. As if he read Brian’s thoughts, RedEye grinned a victorious grin, and continued what he was doing, leaving Brian to stand in one spot until the radio host’s anecdote was over and he flipped a switch to set the broadcast to a recording.

“Why am I here?” Brian immediately asked. 

Through narrowed eyes he looked RedEye over, knowing that the radio host was responsible, albeit indirectly, for his injuries caused him to be immediately mistrustful.

“You blacked out and despite everything telling me I should leave you for some pack guys to find, I didn’t want to let them have all the fun. So here you are. You were meant to stay in my bedr- I mean the room I put you in. Which is my guest room. For guests.”

“I got hungry. How long was I asleep?”

RedEye shrugged, “A day or two? Hell if I know. I don’t sleep.” Nonchalantly he plucked at his guitar strings, “jabbed you with Med-X, mostly to keep you outta my way.”

“Oh that’s why I don’t hurt.” Brian grinned, although he remained wary. Despite RedEye’s casual and nonthreatening attitude, Brian knew he was very much in foreign territory and RedEye had the upper hand. “Bullshit you don’t sleep, you have to sleep sometime.”

“You were in my bed.” 

“You mean the guest be—”

Before Brian could finish his questioning remark, RedEye swiftly pushed himself to his feet so the sound of his chair scraping across the floor cut off Brian’s words. He stood his guitar against the wall and strode closer. “You said you were hungry?”

Brian nodded and when RedEye turned to leave the studio, Brian began trotting after him, keen to stay close and learn the layout of the sprawling interior. 

As they walked Brian poked at the gap in his teeth. He was pleased that the hole where his tooth had been felt less raw and painful so eating shouldn’t be a problem. The metallic taste of blood still lingered in his mouth but that was something he was used to.

They quickly arrived in a kitchen area which had once served the cast members working for Nuka World and was still decorated in Nuka Cola regalia. A place for the employees to rest and escape the park but not the brand.

“You got a good deal here,” Brian observed. “The rest of us are living in shacks. I sleep in a janitor’s closet.”

“Yeah, I like this gig,” RedEye agreed while rummaging through his food supplies for something he didn’t care enough about to keep for himself. Eventually he placed a can of Cram before his guest, and after a moment, a bottle of beer. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That’s the closest I got to human flesh, Bloodmouth.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to eat you,” Brian said dryly as he tugged open the can of meat. He popped open the bottle of beer using the edge of the table, and took a mouthful. The cold liquid caused Brian to wince as it got into his wound, but he was determined to rid his mouth of the taste of his own blood. Instead of spitting it out, he swallowed the nasty mix. “I definitely have a face for radio right now,” he joked, brushing a hand over his face and watching flakes of dried blood drift to the ground.

RedEye chuckled and took a long drink from his own bottle of beer. When he lowered it, he stopped to consider his guest. Brian looked worse than he had now that the side of his head was covered in a large blotchy bruise that spread into a black eye, the white of which was covered in a splotch of vivid broken-blood-vessel red. RedEye huffed and lifted his bottle to point in Brian’s direction, “you been here a day and already you’re stealing my gimmick.”

* * *

 

He had been guided to a bathroom, once intended for the use of Nuka World employees, and it was here that he stood looking at himself in a length of cracked and broken mirror. As with most places the plumbing didn't work so Brian did the best he could at getting the blood off his face with a dry rag; whatever water supply RedEye had, he obviously wasn’t about to share it just so his guest could look presentable. 

Brian grumbled. He carefully looked at his eye: the skin surrounding it was definitely bruised. He turned his head to the side to see the full extent of the bruising, scowling in annoyance. Scrubbing at his face, he dusted off the remnants of the blood from his nose and mouth. Once he had removed it all he deemed himself more presentable so he dragged his fingers through his hair and grinned a cocky, confident grin at the mirror. His reflection, minus one front tooth, grinned back at him. 

Brian turned away and began a slow lope around the bathroom. He selected a shard of broken mirror from the floor and tucked it into his boot. He felt happier instantly in the knowledge that he was armed with more than just his teeth.

On his way back to the kitchen Brian took some time to curiously look about the radio building. Torn and peeling posters promoting Nuka Cola products covered the walls beneath the flickering lights and exposed pipes and wires that hung from the ceiling. This was obviously a place not designed for the public to ever see. He had to wonder how much of the decor was from before the war and how much RedEye himself had contributed.

Brian found RedEye where he had left him, although he was reclined against a battered old leather sofa in one corner of the kitchen, his arms spread across the back. With his head lolled back, he looked to be asleep although Brian couldn’t tell from a distance. He took a step closer when a sudden blaring alarm cut through the silence. Brian froze on the spot, his fingers twitching before he remembered he didn’t have his gun. 

“Goddamnit,” a disgruntled grumble sounded, barely audible over the alarm. RedEye sat up straight, arching his back to ease out the ache that came with sleeping in an awkward position.

“There's an alarm,” Brian uselessly pointed out.

“Ugh it's just a gauntlet thing.” The radio host ran a hand over his face, grumbling about how he hadn't intended to go to sleep. “Come with me.”

Along a dark corridor they trailed, through tunnels once exclusively used by park employees to remain out of sight. Aside from some low industrial lighting placed every few yards the hall was not illuminated and oily puddles of shadow spread across the floor and walls. Brian fancied that he saw mutated creatures lurking in the darkness amongst the piles of rubble and debris. Nervously he pressed closer to RedEye, shivering despite himself; he was incredibly uneasy in that blackest of places. However the very notion of seeing the famous Nuka World deathtrap up close was too exciting to pass up on and certainly overrode any discomfort he felt.

“This place is a maze,” Brian complained quietly. “Where are we going?”

“Not much further.”

The words held little comfort for Brian. He made sure to keep close to his companion for if he was lost in this place it would surely take weeks for him to get out. They eventually came upon a door, lit by two caged bulbs and labelled ‘security’. RedEye seemed momentarily hesitant about opening the door but after a furtive glance in Brian's direction, he shoved it open.

Brian was not prepared for what lay on the other side of the door. A room filled with flickering television sets that showed every inch of the park. 

“Cool right?” RedEye could barely keep the pride from his voice. “Now sit down and shut up. I have work to do.”

Brian obediently took a seat and watched as the gauntlet’s narrator sank into a well worn office chair, his eyes scanning a series of specific monitors. Brian followed his gaze to see the various death traps that made up the gauntlet mapped out on the screens. RedEye pulled a microphone closer, completely ignoring Brian as he launched into a spiel of taunting insults and observations for the benefit of the gangs and the horror of the sole wastelander who was now trapped in the deadly maze.

Admiringly Brian edged closer so he could see the screens. The change that had come over his companion, from laid back teller of stories to mocking sadist was remarkable and a reminder that the radio host was as much a raider as any of them. Brian shuffled against the pressure of the shard of glass in his boot, suddenly very aware of it. 

RedEye laughed maniacally, almost as if he had forgotten Brian was even there. On screen a tattered looking wastelander cowered from a barrage of bullets. Brian had never had the privilege of seeing the entire gauntlet before and he marvelled at the scale of it. 

“And he’s down, folks!” RedEye announced. He slammed his palm flat onto the desk, a wild grin stretched across his face. “No matter what, the gauntlet claims them all!”

With a sinister chuckle RedEye flicked off his mic. He looked slightly surprised when he turned and his eyes met Brian’s. 

Brian swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. Both men stared at one another in a tense silence that could easily take any direction should one of them choose to nudge it that way. Ultimately it was RedEye who broke the tension, his arms fluidly falling to his sides and his laid back demeanour returning almost as if he had flipped a switch.

“You wanna grab a beer?”


	4. Piece of Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raiders are raiders no matter how helpful and kind they might seem.

Brian had almost forgotten the reason he had set foot in the market on the day he had lost his tooth, but he was reminded as soon as a bottle of beer was placed in front of him. Quickly he realised that while he had been unconscious and injured, RedEye had been working his way through his beer, and now he was being offered it as if that was some kind of grand gesture of hospitality.

“I remember there being a lot more of this when I bought it,” Brian commented drily.

“Hey, you know how difficult it was to haul your blacked out ass back here and carry all that beer at the same time? I earned it.” 

RedEye popped the cap off his bottle and took a long drink while Brian eyed him uncomfortably. He still couldn’t quite fathom why he had been brought back to the radio building when it would have been easier to either leave him or to dump him at the doctor who inhabited the market.

Happily oblivious to Brian’s discomfort, RedEye enthused about the latest spectacle in the gauntlet with Brian nodding along but barely paying attention. His attention wasn’t caught until RedEye addressed him directly, accompanied by a snap of his fingers.

“Huh, what?”

“I asked if all the stories about you are true.”

“Oh.” Brian instantly seized the opportunity to glorify himself. “All the good ones are, yeah.”

“So, like, if you were going to eat someone...do you cook them or just chow down like some kind of feral?” RedEye asked, leaning his head in his hand. 

Brian leaned back and picked at his teeth. “Yeah,” he finally answered.

“Yeah you do or yeah you don’t?”

“Yeah I cook them, I’m not an animal.”

“Does it taste good?”

“Eh, better than two hundred year old canned food.” Brian toyed with his empty bottle. “People are fucking scared of being eaten, I like to take a bite out of one of them to put the frighteners on their pals. Honestly? When I can find it, I mostly like eating cotton candy.” 

“Cotton candy?” RedEye laughed, “We should start calling you Cottonmouth.”

Brian chuckled in response. He carefully dabbed at the gap in his teeth with the tip of his tongue while wondering how much his poor dietary habits had contributed to his tooth loss. No, he reassured himself, he had lost his tooth because he had been punched in the head.

“You know, knowing that I eat people and all that. Doesn't seem a smart investment to bring me here.” Brian passed off his comment as joking but became very focused, searching the eyes of his fellow raider for any sign of something amiss.

RedEye shrugged. “I told you before that you were unconscious. What was the worst you were gonna do? I could have just left you there but hey, I figured I’m a good guy. A good neighbour. I’ll help this idiot who just got himself beat up--”

“It was your fault they knew who to come after!” Brian interrupted, banging his bottle down on the table.

Much to Brian’s chagrin, RedEye laughed, and Brian realised with dismay that the radio host was completely and utterly unintimidated by him. Despite everything, despite having been a firsthand witness to the bloody attack in the bar, RedEye exuded an arrogance that told Brian he thought he was completely untouchable. 

“What are you gonna do? Bite me?”

“Maybe--”

“Yeah right.” 

RedEye showed his teeth in a smug grin before turning back to drinking his beer. He observed Brian over his bottle with amusement shining in his eyes, waiting for an attack he predicted would never come.

“Well thanks for not leaving me to die I guess,” Brian muttered before ploughing on. “Furthermore, you bring me here and leave me in your bed, not on the floor or whatever. That's just downright  _ nice _ .”

“Not like I was using it.”

“Right, because you don't sleep,” Brian mocked with a roll of his eyes.

“Anyway, you owe me.”

That caught Brian’s attention. He immediately sat bolt upright, his eyes narrowed angrily but in a heart-sinking moment he realised the truth of their situation.

“You motherfucker, you fucking tricked me into thinking you’re some...fucking good samaritan!”

The anger caused RedEye to waver, his cockiness ebbing momentarily and he tensed slightly. He hoped Brian didn’t notice the telling display of nerves; if he was to pull this off he needed to be in control. 

“You’d be dead in the marketplace now if it wasn’t for me-”

Brian bristled in rage, his fingers twitching and keen to take the shard of broken mirror and run it across the throat of the smug radio host. He had been played and he hated it but RedEye’s words rang true: he doubted anyone else would have come to his aid. He would have been left to choke on his own blood, and if he had lived he would have found himself robbed blind. A weak, helpless raider was a dead raider.

“-but,” RedEye continued, “I got an offer for you. Man, I must be going soft because it’s not even difficult, I just don’t have the time to do it myself.”

“What do you want?” Brian grumbled.

“You told me you’re always listening to the radio. ‘ _ You do such great work, RedEye! _ ’ you told me. I know a fan when I see one. No need to tell me. Anyway, you should know that the radio doesn’t work everywhere, but I found a way to make that happen. I mean, I could do it, not saying I couldn't, but then I'd be away and all these good people wouldn't be getting the quality entertainment they deserve.”

“What would that involve?”

“Spreading the good word of RedEye.” He tossed his head back, grinning cockily as if he was God’s gift to the wasteland. “Way I see things is that there's only this one transmitter working, so the radio only broadcasts in the park. Like, in this tiny area. But I happen to know, because Colter himself told me, that there’s a transmitter out there that can send the signal across the whole Commonwealth. You just go out there, set it up and that’s it. We call it even.”

Brian snorted. “That’s it? Piece of cake. I can fix that up no problem.”

“Good!” RedEye looked genuinely pleased for a moment. “I mean, great. Shouldn’t be any problem.” Immediately his eyes were narrowed and sly as if he had suddenly read Brian’s mind. “Imagine if the whole park knew that the infamous Bloodmouth couldn’t manage to do a little job. Or if they knew he was so easily knocked out. I mean, I guess some people could live with being the laughing stock of the whole park but-”

“Alright, alright. I get the fucking hint. Don’t run out on you or you ruin my reputation. Stop talking.”

Victoriously RedEye grinned over the rim of his bottle but for once he was silenced.


	5. The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian really doesn't like insects.

With a tattered map held in his hands depicting the entirety of Nuka World, complete with garish cartoon characters, Brian wandered along the perimeter road surrounding the park. Lined with street lights from which Nuka World flags still forlornly flapped in the wind, the road was long but mostly free from danger. Sooner or later Brian knew he would have to step off the beaten track and head out into the wilderness. Into places his usual hunting didn't take him.

Eyes narrowed against the bright light, Brian held a hand to his forehead as he tried to spot the location of the transmitter. Far away in the distance, something extended high into the sky, so he assumed that was what he was looking for. To reach it would be a long walk but from what he could see the path ahead did not seem especially treacherous. 

Brian tucked his map away as he began heading out, his senses alert for danger. Somewhere nearby the buzz of insects rattled and Brian shuddered involuntarily at the prospect of encountering them. Nuka World seemed to be a haven for mutated crickets, flies and ants. Perhaps it was something to do with hundreds of years worth of sugary liquid sloshing around unchecked. Whatever the cause of all the bugs, Brian still kept low so he could avoid them.

Once he set foot on the ground that surrounded the transmitter, Brian immediately craned his neck to look up at the towering pylon covered in satellite discs. A small concrete hut stood at the base of the tower, and beside that an ancient generator lay silent. Given no specific instructions as to what was wrong with the transmitter and not being very technically minded, Brian knew he would have to figure out this problem alone and he suddenly wished he hadn't claimed it to be such a ‘piece of cake’.

Curiously he examined the generator, his eyes followed the line of the wires that ran from the power source to the tower and another that connected to the hut. Maybe there was something inside that could help him so Brian stepped closer, pulling and then pushing on the heavy, steel door.

It did not budge.

With a cry of frustration, Brian gave the door a kick, a loud bang ringing out across the wasteland. Perhaps there was another way in, so he began a slow, exploratory walk around the small building.

Midway, he froze. The ground was shaking. Brian glanced at his feet where small stones vibrated on the cracked soil as the rumbling grew louder and more intense. He had never experienced an earthquake before so he had no idea what to do, he certainly couldn't shoot it, so he simply stood, dumbfounded, watching the ground tremble.

Suddenly the shaking stopped and the ground burst open in a spray of grit and stones. From the earth came a massive radscorpion: the source of the shaking ground, it crawled out of its hole with claws hungrily slashing the air and its deadly tail poised to strike.

Brian immediately screamed, and the creature homed in on him. Without thinking, he turned tail and ran, fear pulsing through his veins as he reacted purely on instinct, his gun still strapped uselessly to his back. Around the hut he bolted, eager to put some distance between himself and the creature. He could hear it clicking and scuttling as it pursued, and so he whirled around the corner blindly, careening directly into two smaller radscorpions. 

The young creatures turned swiftly, their claws clicking in excitement at the sight of the prey that had blundered into them. Brian whirled around in fear, trapped, he began wildly staring around in an attempt to find an escape route. The young radscorpions were closing in on him and as he instinctively backed away, the larger one --the parent perhaps-- came scuttling around the corner of the hut.

The big radscorpion lunged and in a split second decision, Brian threw himself at the wall of the hut, his fingers snatching onto the frame of a shuttered window. He scrambled out of the line of the deadly stinger as it swung down, grazing the leather of his boot. Swiftly he drew his leg out of the way, fear driving him up the cracked wall, his hands digging into any handhold he could reach until his fingers were bloody. 

Once he reached the top of the hut, Brian rolled onto his back, his chest heaving and his limbs shaking with exhaustion and fear. He knew radscorpions couldn't climb but he could still hear them hunting for a way to reach him, and the thought made him shudder. Adrenaline burned in his chest and throat, his breathing shallow and erratic, his heart hammering so fast that he thought he might die.

“They can’t reach me, they can’t reach me--” Brian repeated like a mantra, his eyes squeezed shut. The scuttling of the scorpions was audible over his words, so he dragged his hands over his ears. 

How long he stayed curled in a ball on the rooftop, he did not know. Time seemed to drag on and on with only the sound of the feared creatures. When they faded away, giving up all hope of catching their prey, Brian took his time to unfurl his stiff, aching body, careful not to make a sound. Cautiously he crept to the edge of the hut and peered down but all was silent, only upturned dirt and claw marks showing where the radscorpions had been.

His legs were shaking as he pushed himself to his feet. Now he was on the roof, he had no idea how to get down. Brian paced the small hut, his boots scuffing over centuries worth of dust and debris that had accumulated there, covering the rooftop in a thick layer.

“Fuck,” Brian announced to the world at large. 

Angrily he kicked his foot through the dust, but sharply it collided with something solid beneath. Swearing and hopping in pain, Brian was distracted for several minutes until the pain subsided and he could inspect what had hurt him. On hands and knees he tentatively brushed the dust away to reveal a raised square of rusted metal. With increased urgency, he swept away more of the dirt, a hopeful grin spreading across his face at the realisation that he had found a trapdoor.

 

* * *

 

Upon the desk lay a bowl of noodles, neglected and allowed to go cold as the man who had made them had forgotten all about them. His eyes were glued to the array of security monitors, a half-empty bottle of lukewarm beer dangled in his fingers halfway to his mouth.

RedEye had not for a single second expected Brian to get as far as the transmitter, and he had been sure that the little raider was about to meet a painful death when the radscorpions had attacked, but now things had become interesting. Sure, he wouldn’t have objected to seeing some bloody carnage, but there was a definite possibility that he could actually get the job done that Colter had assigned to him so long ago. 

He finally lifted his bottle to his lips and took a drink, swilling the lukewarm beer around his mouth. 

_ Bloodmouth _ , he thought to himself. The infamous Bloodmouth was a skinny, almost comically short man who spoke with an accent from somewhere far away. Prior to actually meeting Brian he had always considered him a rumour or an exaggeration. The stuff good stories were made from, but no, he was definitely real and he seemed to be somewhat smarter than your average raider. 

_ But not that smart _ , RedEye grinned. Trailing into the wasteland on a dangerous mission was not his style, not when some other sucker could do it for him. Sending Bloodmouth off to do his job was a once in a lifetime opportunity that he had seized with both hands. He still couldn’t believe his luck. 

RedEye took another mouthful of beer - the same beer that he had picked up after hauling Brian back from the marketplace and he laughed to himself. He sure hoped Bloodmouth would make it back in one piece.


	6. In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't kick the can.

Brian was not optimistic about the hut once he had cleared away the dust from the trapdoor and dropped inside. A stale smell hung in the air implying that no one had set foot inside for a very long time. The lights weren’t working, so all Brian could see was by the flame of his lighter, and that didn’t help him much. Awkwardly he shuffled about, sliding his feet and feeling for things he could trip over, or holes he could stumble into.

From what he could tell, the hut extended far beyond its outward appearance, sloping down into the ground in a long tunnel. Brian shuddered at the prospect of what could be lurking in the darkness, but he was unable to hold his gun and his lightsource at the same time. The thought did not give him any comfort.

The deeper Brian travelled, the more he became aware that the darkness was fading. A low light from a red emergency bulb illuminated the dusty, dirty hallway in a thick, soupy glow. Brian paused by the caged bulb and took a look around: nearby was a door with a label that had long since faded into illegible nothingness. A small mesh enclosure stood opposite, through which Brian could make out some boards covered in dials and switches when he held his lighter closer. He had no idea what any of the equipment was for, so he stepped away and turned his attention to the door. When he pushed, it felt as if it was locked, but once his full weight was against it, it budged by an inch. A protesting creak filled the air, groaning as the ancient hinges were disturbed after two hundred years of lying motionless. Brian shoved harder, gaining momentum and the door eventually swung open enough for him to slip inside. 

Brian felt immediately that he was in a small space, that the walls were close and the ceiling was low. The air smelled stale, filled with dust as he moved and stirred up the floor causing dust motes to float around the flame of his lighter. As he shuffled closer, he could make out equipment covered in dials. He smeared a hand through the dust covering one of them, wiping it away so he could squint in confusion at what lay beneath.

“What the hell,” Brian muttered under his breath. 

A sudden wave of despair washed over Brian as he realised he had absolutely no idea how to fix this problem. He was no engineer or scientist. He had no knowledge of electronics beyond changing a fuse or a bulb. He pushed his lips into a fine line of frustration as he slid his hand over unseen machinery, feeling the blocky shapes beneath his fingertips. None of it meant anything to him.

In resignation, Brian slumped down onto the floor. He clicked his lighter shut and sat in the pool of red light that managed to creep through from the hallway outside.

He didn’t know what to do.

In the gloom he gradually became aware of sounds that he had previously failed to notice. A very faint electronic whirring seemed to be coming inside the room, and he strained to locate its source. While he listened, another sound began to encroach upon the quiet room, filling his ears and suffocating the faint whir. Brian cocked his head toward the door; he could just about make out a shuffling sound that was to his fearful mind all that dissimilar from the sound radscorpions made. It was definitely the sound of something alive and mobile. 

Whatever was down in the tunnel with him was still some distance away, but Brian felt a ball of nerves and adrenaline swell in his throat. His eyes darted back and forth. Surely if he couldn’t see then whatever else was lurking in the dark also couldn’t see? He swallowed. Did radscorpions even have eyes? He was fairly sure they used some other way to hunt. 

Fearfully, Brian extended his leg so the sole of his boot met with the door. He pushed and the door began to swing shut, locking him gradually in the darkness. A solid thud announced, far too loudly in Brian’s opinion, that the door was closed.

Darkness swallowed him whole as if he was in the belly of some great beast. He stayed still, ears pricked and listening for the shuffling sound. Despite the inky blackness surrounding him, Brian felt somewhat secure in the knowledge that radscorpions couldn’t open doors. As his breathing levelled and his eyes adjusted, he noticed a tiny flashing light in the corner of the room.

Brian shuffled closer, his movements soundless in the thick dust. He extended a hand to touch the source of the steadily flashing light and his finger touched smooth glass. He pressed forward until his palm was flat against the surface and he moved it back and forth, wiping away centuries of dust.

He had found a terminal.

Rapidly Brian swept away the dust and the room was filled with a murky glow. He peered at the cursor on the screen, flashing as it awaited an input. A lot of lines of commands were listed above, most of which Brian couldn’t associate with an actual, real life function. He jabbed at the dusty keys below the screen and the cursor moved up and down. Brian had little knowledge of computer terminals, although he had used one for the most basic of functions. He keyed an X into every command based on some vague muscle memory that guided his hands, and he jabbed the enter key.

Immediately, things began happening. A low hum whirred into life followed by a series of metallic clangs that started quietly but progressively got louder and louder as they got closer. Suddenly the room was filled with bright, artificial light that caused Brian to shield his eyes with his arm. With his eyes shielded, he grinned widely. His grin turned into a chuckle, which in turn became a wild, joyous laugh. He had done it! He had got the power back on! Brian flopped back into the dust, laughing until tears streamed down his filthy cheeks.

When Brian finally picked himself up from the floor, he dusted himself off and headed toward the terminal with fingers poised to begin an attempt to make the power turn into a fix for the transmitter. He was so preoccupied with his success that he did not associate the groaning, grumbling noise with danger until it was too late. A ghoul crashed into the room, decayed fingers reaching out to grab at Brian who yelled in surprise and leapt backwards. There was little space to move in the cramped room and soon rotted fingers were at Brian’s throat, clawing at his skin while he gagged at the stench of necrotic flesh.

Brian knew better than to bite a feral ghoul so he struggled beneath its weight, trapped and unable to reach his weapon. Flecks of stinking saliva dripped onto his face along with browning, rotten blood that smeared his skin and clothing. 

“Get the fuck off me!” Brian snarled. His legs pounded at the rotten body, feet kicking anything he could make contact with. Viciously he shoved at the ghoul, hissing in disgust when his fingers sank into the soft, mouldering flesh, scraps of it embedding themselves beneath his nails and falling onto him when he pulled his hands away. 

Savagely the ghoul fought back with instinctive movements. Clumsy but driven by a need to rend and tear at the intruder. Brian yelled in pain as his body was crushed against the machinery of the room, his gun pressing painfully into his spine, nothing more than a useless lump of metal unless he could somehow work it free. 

With an angry cry, Brian braced himself against the machinery, his legs curled and feet pressed against the ghoul. In one movement he straightened his legs and pushed the monster away, staggering it long enough for him to snatch his gun. Swiftly Brian aimed and pulled the trigger, blasting a cartridge into the ghoul in a flash of blue, gauss rifle light. The ghoul roared in outrage and shambled forward, but Brian was prepared and pulled the trigger again and again, panic and disgust driving him to shoot haphazardly and without any of his usual finesse. He was only satisfied enough to lower his rifle when all that remained of his enemy was a bloody pile of gore and bones.

He was breathing heavily, covered in blood and viscera, but his eyes were wide and his senses were on full alert. If one ghoul was in the tunnels that surely meant there were more lurking nearby, and by turning on the power he could have potentially released them all. His fingers tightened around his gauss rifle as he strained to hear anything that told him he wasn’t alone. Carefully Brian stepped over the remains of the ghoul and he leaned out to look into the hallway. Everything seemed still and silent so he took a tentative footstep out. Several more cautious steps took him into the centre of the hall, his gun raised and his trigger finger ready. Nothing happened, so Brian heaved a sigh of relief and lowered his gun. He told himself that the ghoul that had attacked him must have been a one-off, perhaps when they had become trapped they had been the last one in the building. In a way Brian felt sorry for them but his pity quickly evaporated as he turned to make his way back toward the entrance.

Midway up the hall, a metallic clatter interrupted the silence and Brian glanced down to see a rusted can spinning where his foot had caught it. He stared at it for a few seconds in horror before laughing out loud: if this was a movie then he would have surely just alerted everyone to his presence. Grinning, Brian kicked the can into the depths of the hall, watching as it bounced all the way down the slope and into darkness. Immediately after, his heart sank. From the gloom, there were suddenly pinpoints of light aimed in his direction: the eyes of a hoard of ferals and they were all trained on him.

Suddenly he was running. He was throwing himself from foot to foot, lunging with all the power his lithe body possessed and hurtling himself up the hall toward the exit. Behind him he could hear guttural growls and groans as the ghouls raced after him. Even if he turned to shoot, the rest of them would tear him to pieces before he could take out more than two of their number.

All thoughts of his task were torn from Brian’s mind as he solely focused on his own survival. When he had dropped down from the roof hatch, he had never stopped to consider how he was going to get back out of the maintenance hut so when he hurtled back to where he had come in, he had to make a split second decision. The door he had been unable to open from the outside was there and Brian threw his full weight against it. Metal, rusted and worn through the ages creaked and protested, but did not budge. Brian scrabbled at the handle and kicked at the door, the sound of the ferals getting louder with every second as they approached. 

“Come on, come on,” Brian hissed in desperation. He aimed a sharp kick at the door but still it did not move. A glance over his shoulder told him the ghouls were seconds away from swarming the small room.

As he turned back to the door, Brian’s eyes suddenly caught sight of something that caused his pounding heart to skip a beat. There was a key hanging by the door. Roughly he snatched it and jammed it in the lock, and with a click the door was opened just as the ferals spilled into the hut, their hands snatching and grabbing for their prey. Brian bolted out of the door, summoning the last of his energy, he dragged air into his lungs through a throat that burned and stung. His legs ached but he pelted out of the building, chased by the hoard of ghouls.


	7. Reality TV

RedEye yawned. He was tired; his eyes hanging and truly living up to his name. Ever since he had watched Bloodmouth evade the radscorpions and enter the hut, there had been no vision. No cameras filmed inside, and if they did, they weren’t linked to the main park security system.

He leaned back in his chair, arching his back and stretching his arms high above his head. When he flopped his arms by his sides, swinging them loosely, he blinked dully and looked around the small, cramped security space. Something troubled the radio host; a strange anxiety gnawed at his insides, disturbing his usual chilled attitude. RedEye could not place what was troubling him. He knew it couldn’t possibly be a lack of sleep, so while thinking he rested his head in his hand and leaned forward onto his desk. His eyes automatically rose to look at the monitors; the one trained upon the shack Bloodmouth had disappeared into was motionless save for a single bird.

RedEye drummed his fingers upon the desk. He swept a bunch of clutter onto the floor in a half-hearted tantrum.

By his somewhat iffy calculations, a week had passed since he had sent Bloodmouth out, and by all accounts he ought to have become bored with the entire idea, especially since now nothing was happening on the screens. Days ago he had set his radio broadcast to recordings, allowing it to loop a backlog of old material while he...did what? Stared aimlessly at a bunch of screens? He should be doing his job or at least he should be checking to see what the rest of the park was up to.

RedEye spun his ancient, creaking office chair in a slow circle until he was facing away from the screens. He blinked several times to clear the imprinted rectangles of light from his eyes before lazily pushing himself to his feet. Down the dusty hallways of the radio building he went until he emerged at a cross section. At one end of the long hall was his studio, marked by a flickering light that read ‘on air’ and at the far, opposite end was his living quarters. He decided to wander to his kitchen where he gathered up an armful of drinks and snacks, stuffing packets into his pockets. 

Quickly RedEye was lured back to the addictive power of the wall of monitors. He dropped into his chair, swung his feet onto the desk and tugged open a bottle of Nuka Cola. Nothing was happening on screen and everything was much as he had left it. He found he was agitated by the lack of activity: how dare his entertainment be taken away so suddenly. How inept were the people who had made the park, not making sure every inch was covered. He curled his lip in annoyance. He was bored, he wanted his entertainment back, he missed the free show, he missed Bloodmouth--

RedEye shook his head at the intrusive thought before his brain immediately began justifying the slip-up. Of  _ course  _ he missed Bloodmouth because without him the show on the screens was nothing but boring scenery. That was all.

Without his permission, RedEye’s tired brain continued feeding to him thoughts that were entirely unwelcome. That he wanted the little raider to survive, that he wouldn’t mind seeing his face again-- 

“He would be a good ally,” RedEye said out loud as if to silence his thoughts. 

It didn’t work. In his mind's eye he could see Bloodmouth’s face, covered in bruises and scrapes. His unusually bright blue eyes had stood out amongst the red and purple. RedEye half expected to turn around and see the little raider sitting behind him where he had been the day he had been introduced to the gauntlet. Try as he might he couldn’t deny that there had been something that passed between them that day, some tiny spark when they had locked eyes. 

RedEye shook his head to clear the memories as if that would even work. He had sent Bloodmouth away but Bloodmouth had refused to leave: he seemed to haunt the building, his presence lingering even if he was miles away in body.

Automatically his eyes flicked to the monitors to search for Bloodmouth and he hated himself for it. Aggressively RedEye threw his half empty bottle of cola across the room where it smashed in a spray of glass and liquid against one of the walls. He dragged his fingers through his hair, balling his fists and tugging at it in frustration. All he had to do was ignore the screens, walk away, go back to his radio station and everything would be okay. Things would go back to normal…

A flicker of movement on screen moved in RedEye’s peripheral vision and he jolted upright to stare at the screen, his heart pounding in excitement. Nuka World would have to be content with recorded material on the radio for a while longer.

“No!” 

RedEye surprised himself with his knee-jerk reaction to the activity on screen. He leapt to his feet, staring into the monitor with wide eyes. Furiously he slammed his fist on the desk. “Don’t you dare fucking die,” he snarled.

On the flickering, bluish surface of the monitor an intense battle raged, with movements too fast for the pre-war technology to keep up with. White flares of gauss rifle shots bleached out the screen, hiding everything else, although they at least served to prove that the owner of the weapon was still alive to fire it.

RedEye dragged his hands over his face in distress before resting them on top of his head while he stared at the screen. He did not want to see his source of entertainment snatched away so suddenly. Not when it had just been returned.

“Fight, you little shit,” RedEye sternly told the man on the monitor. 

Gunshots flared several more times, each shot causing RedEye’s heart to skip as his visual was snatched away. The monitor refocused, and he frantically scanned it for signs of movement, but all was still. 

“Where the hell are you?” 

And then he saw him, loping away around a mound of rubble, dragging his stupid, oversized gun behind him. RedEye sank back into his chair in relief, his eyes fixed on the small figure that roamed around the dilapidated remains of a toll booth before settling down inside and out of sight. 

“God damnit...don’t scare me like that again,” RedEye scolded the screen. 

 


	8. Mow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the single most important thing that will happen in this entire story. Mow.

Blood seeped through the fabric of his coat, spreading in a dark stain. Brian gritted his teeth and held his hand to the wound, pressing on it to stem the flow. One of those damn ferals had got him, somehow cutting through the protection of his baggy coat to land a direct hit.

He took a deep breath and sat down in the cover of a former toll booth. Blood dripped through his fingers, and with his free hand he rummaged for something to use as a bandage.

Brian’s pockets were home to many things: ammo, countless strips of jerky, and his own tooth to name but a few. He pulled out his hoard, scattering things on the ground while he dug about. Eventually his fingers closed around a half-used roll of duct tape: his go-to solution to any cuts.

Still breathing hard, Brian wriggled out of his coat so his bare arm was exposed. Between the tattoos was a ragged laceration with smeared blood surrounding it. Clumsily, as his skin was slippery and he was only able to use one hand, Brian began looping the tape around his arm. He felt better once the pressure of the makeshift bandage pressed against his skin and the flow of blood was stopped.

He flopped back, leaning against the crumbling and dusty brickwork while he tried to level his breathing and quash the pain. Suddenly he felt cold, so he pulled his coat back over his shoulders and rummaged in his pockets to find his lighter. He would start a fire, heat some of the meagre amount of rations he still had left, and then try to get some sleep. It sounded like a plan.

Once the fire was crackling away, confined to a battered enamel bucket, Brian sat back to warm his hands. Even in the firelight he could see that he was covered in dark, filthy stains but washing himself would have to wait. He pulled out a can of potted meat and lazily began tugging at the ring pull to open it up. Immediately the smell of salty, preserved food filled Brian’s nostrils and he screwed his face up at the thought of eating it, especially since he couldn’t even identify what kind of animal the slimy chunks had come from. Maybe it would taste better hot, so he carefully balanced the tin on the edge of the fire bucket.

A rustling sound disturbed Brian, and immediately he drew out his knife. He narrowed his eyes toward the entrance to the booth, waiting to see what, if anything, would approach. In the darkness two points of gleaming light shone, and Brian tightened his grip on his weapon. He recognised eyes when he saw them.

Briefly there was a tense standoff where neither party moved. Just as Brian was beginning to ache from holding still, the eyes blinked and then their owner moved forward into the firelight.

Brian lowered his knife and laughed. A scrawny, feeble-looking cat slinked closer to the warming meat, its nose raised as it sourced about for the origin of the scent.

“Mow,” the cat said.

“Mow,” Brian replied through a huge grin. “You hungry, buddy?”

The presence of the friendly animal brightened Brian’s spirits and took his mind away from the pain in his arm. Carefully he sliced off a small section of the potted meat and lay it down on the ground near where he was sitting. Brian did not have much experience with animals beyond killing and eating them, but he liked cats.

“You’re too skinny to eat,” Brian chuckled while nudging the meat closer.

“Mow.”

The cat crept closer with its eyes fixed on Brian who stayed very still. Brian was delighted when his new friend began to eat the food.

“Edible huh?”

Brian pulled the warm can of meat over and took a bite of its contents. He screwed his face up at the strong, overpowering flavour and saltiness. After forcing down three mouthfuls he ultimately decided the meat was better suited as cat food so he lowered it for his greedy new friend, and the cat immediately shoved its face into the can.

With his eyes fixed on the cat, Brian leaned back against the wall, shuffling his coat about in an attempt to make some kind of comfortable bedding. He was pleased that he had completed the task RedEye had sent him out to do, despite his injuries and how sore and tired he was.

“I’ll show him,” Brian announced. “I’m not some idiot raider with shit for brains. I’m gonna make sure all the stories of Bloodmouth on the radio are good ones.”

The cat looked up and blinked once. Brian nodded at it as if it understood what he was saying. He needed to keep his reputation known as a vicious madman since he had no gang to back him up.

“If people start thinking I’m not who they thought I was, I’m in trouble,” Brian told the cat. “Fucking RedEye knows that or...I guess he took a stab in the dark and got lucky. Fucker. I got played by the radio host and that’s embarrassing enough.”

Grumbling to himself Brian settled down. He found some comfort in voicing his thoughts to his new companion.

“I always wanted to know who he was and it turns out he’s an asshole-“

“Mow.”

“-but I probably would have done the same thing, if not worse.” Brian laughed, “he’s a pretty bad raider. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when we march right on into Nuka Town. Fixing radio transmitters? Not a problem for the mighty Bloodmouth. I mean if it was the other way around I’d be impressed.”

The cat stretched and promptly leapt into Brian’s lap where it lay and began licking a paw. Hesitantly Brian reached a hand out to stroke it.

“Not that I care if he’s impressed or not,” Brian insisted. The cat twisted around to look at him and if Brian didn’t know better he would have sworn it looked skeptical. “Trying to impress that guy only leads to trouble.”

 

 

 

 


	9. Return

Brian had absolutely no idea how long had passed since he had begun his job to fix the radio transmitter, but what he did know was that he had done what he had been asked to do and he was going home. He did not allow his guard down until he was within the confines of Nuka Town, and only then did he relax. His feet stung, his body ached, he was covered in dirt and blood, and judging by the way other raiders skirted around him, he stank to high heaven. The weight of his new furry companion hung heavy as the cat lay in a ball, hidden in the depths of Brian’s oversized hood.

“This is home,” Brian told his cat.

Instead of going to his own house, Brian’s feet guided him to the radio building. He wanted to see the look on RedEye's face when he walked in successfully. 

Furiously Brian banged on the door, knowing full well that the building was so vast that there was every chance he wouldn't be heard. He was surprised when the door was pulled open almost immediately. For a fleeting moment Brian thought he saw genuine happiness on RedEye's face as if they were long lost friends being reunited. RedEye ushered Brian inside before anyone noticed the secret entrance to his building.

“I'm done,” Brian announced proudly. 

“You smell real bad,” RedEye responded, wrinkling his nose. 

“Yeah,” Brian laughed. “You wouldn't believe the things I've done, they'd make for some good stories. Maybe I'll tell you them all and you can tell them on the radio!”

RedEye silently nodded: he already knew the stories. He had watched them all play out in real time. 

“So what did I miss?” Brian chirped. “What's wrong with you? Something terrible happen while I was away?”

RedEye shook himself and when he spoke he had a curtness to his voice. “No.” 

Abruptly RedEye turned to walk away. Brian allowed him to get several steps away before he decided to follow him; curiosity nibbled at him and he wanted to see what was causing the strange behaviour. Something about Brian’s presence seemed to be setting RedEye on edge, so the little raider jogged to catch up until he was by RedEye’s side and he could see his face. He had only come to gloat but now he found he was concerned for the very person who had blackmailed him and sent him off on a dangerous mission.

“You stink, Bloodmouth,” RedEye informed Brian immediately before Brian had a chance to say anything. 

“Man, you don’t smell so good yourself,” Brian retaliated, and it was then that he realised RedEye did look more dishevelled than usual. Days worth of stubble covered the cheeks and chin of the radio host, and Brian eyed it suspiciously as if trying to figure out what it meant; maybe he was hungover or coming down from a chem high, which would explain how tired he appeared.

RedEye turned to stare down at Brian, abruptly coming to a standstill in the middle of the hallway. Brian jolted to a stop too, tilting his head curiously.

“Do you know you’re bleeding?” RedEye asked.

“Ah...yeah.” Brian glanced down at his arm where his injury still throbbed beneath its makeshift bandage. “I got fucked up by a damn ghoul. Tore my coat up too.”

Brian shifted on the spot, aware of RedEye staring at his arm. He felt he shouldn’t break the silence although it dragged on until things became awkward. Eventually RedEye blinked several times as if to clear his thoughts, and his gaze shifted to look Brian in the face.

“When was the last time you slept?” asked Brian, his tone lowered and gentle as if he was speaking to someone severely injured. “You wanna uh...grab a beer? Something to eat?”

RedEye brushed off the concerned questions with a shrug. He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Brian behind with a confused frown creasing his face. Brian was sure he heard a mumbled response, or some kind of remark, said too quietly for his ears to catch but he decided to let it go. He followed RedEye to the repurposed break room of the radio building and for some moments silently watched him busying himself opening and closing cupboards in an aimless fashion.

For the first time since his return, Brian became aware of how much his arm was hurting so he shuffled off to the corner of the room where he dropped down onto the cracked leather of an old sofa. Gingerly he peeled back his coat to reveal the band of duct tape around his arm. Trails of blood had oozed from beneath the bandage. Brian bit his lip as his fingers carefully pressed around the surrounding skin - his flesh felt hot. 

“Hey man, I got no beer but-”

Brian swallowed hard and forced himself to look up and in the direction of RedEye’s voice. His own voice wavered when he spoke.

“Can you...take this off?” With a vague hand motion, Brian indicated the band of bloodied duct tape. He bowed his head. “I can’t bring myself to do it.” When he rose his head again he weakly grinned, “it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

RedEye strode over so he could see the wound. He pursed his lips while Brian looked expectantly up at him. 

“That’s gross,” RedEye concluded. 

Brian closed his eyes in exasperation; maybe he was asking too much to be helped when he knew full well that raiders generally weren’t inclined to help one another, not for free anyway. Now he was aware that his arm was badly injured, the pain had somehow become worse and impossible to ignore. His fingers reached to take hold of the edge of the tape, ready to rip it off but his eyes flicked open in surprise when his hand was suddenly snatched away.

“What the hell, you’re just gonna rip it off?” RedEye asked. “You’ll screw yourself up. Wait here.”

The grasp on Brian’s hand loosened and RedEye headed to the opposite side of the room where he began rummaging through drawers of kitchen equipment that had barely been touched since the former break room had been abandoned. He found a pair of scissors which he clicked together on his way back.

“Hold still,” RedEye warned.

Carefully Brian watched as the duct tape was snipped away. The area that had covered the wound was mostly useless, its adhesive rendered ineffective by all the blood, and so it easily lifted away to reveal the wound. RedEye recoiled in disgust, and Brian flinched. Swollen and red, the laceration oozed with infection. Suddenly Brian felt sick, so he turned his head away.

“Man, that don’t look good.”

“You got any stimpaks? I’ll pay you. Just get me something to fix this.”

RedEye was silent as if torn between two difficult decisions, but while he dithered, Brian took the chance to wriggle out of his coat. Carelessly he left it bunched behind where he sat and immediately he was a much smaller, much more pathetic looking figure. 

“RedEye,” Brian sighed. He didn’t know what was wrong with the radio host but at that moment he didn’t care. “Stimpak?” 

“Right. Yeah. Gimme a second.”

His parting words hanging in the air, RedEye swept out of the room. Brian breathed deeply, although he found that didn’t help since a sickly smell seemed to be pouring from his wound and it turned his stomach. If RedEye didn’t have anything to help him, he would have to drag himself to the market and now he wasn’t sure he was up to the task. With teeth clenched, Brian rolled his head back and breathed steadily through his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut. 

A sharp prick in his arm opened Brian’s eyes, and weakly he glanced down to see that RedEye had returned and to his surprise had jabbed him with the stimpak.

“Thanks,” croaked Brian. 

“Don’t worry about it,” RedEye responded in a muttering tone. He tossed the spent stimpak casing aside and stepped away, his face conveying that he perhaps had something else to say although he ultimately remained silent.

Brian allowed the medicine to course through his veins. He didn’t know how long it would take to work and if he would need any more, but he was suddenly aware of a heavy tiredness that washed over him. In careless exhaustion he twisted on the sofa before swinging his legs onto it and curling into a ball. He tugged his coat over himself and allowed sleep to claim him.

\--

The old break room was not especially warm, and it was with a shiver that Brian woke up. He blinked his eyes several times to clear them before shuffling since even with his small size, being confined to a sofa for who knew how long had caused his body to become stiff and achy. He reached to pull his coat tighter around himself but when his fingers touched the fabric they met something rough and scratchy that was not his familiar clothing. In confusion Brian pulled an old, battered blanket into his line of sight which he frowned at. The only conclusion he could come to was that RedEye had been in to cover him, but that only made the frown lines of confusion furrow deeper upon Brian’s brow. 

Slowly Brian realised that the pain had subsided in his arm. He twisted to look at the wound: the swollen, infected flesh seemed close to normal and the laceration had begun knitting itself back together. He flexed his fingers and twisted his arm before pushing himself up to a sitting position, the blanket draped loosely over his shoulders. 

RedEye was nowhere to be seen but the radio building was large and chances were high that he was in his studio. Brian wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Suddenly he remembered that he had not arrived at the radio building alone so he scrambled to peer inside his hood for his cat. The hood was empty.

“Shit,” Brian hissed. “Cat!” he called quietly. “Cat! Where are you?”

Weakly he staggered to his feet. The room was empty save for himself - the only source of movement was an ancient jukebox that flickered with light. Brian shuffled to the exit, clicking his tongue in an attempt to lure back his pet.

He roamed through the hallways, in and out of pools of light and puddles of inky shadow but there was no sign of the cat. Brian didn’t want to think about what could have happened if it had escaped and got outside: a cat would make a good plaything for one of The Pack’s many hounds. Eventually his feet brought him to the studio where the radio was broadcast from and without thinking, Brian pushed open the door and slipped inside. Immediately he realised he had just marched in on the middle of a broadcast for the second time in his life.

RedEye looked agitated but there was nothing he could do while in the middle of a song so Brian began poking about, looking beneath cabinets and machines. He was on his hands and knees, peering into the gloom when the song came to an end and the sound of heavy boots approached him.

“What the hell are you doing, Bloodmouth?”

“Looking for my cat.”

Brian pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off. He stared up at RedEye who looked back down at him in confusion as if he was high and making no sense.

“Your cat…?”

“You know what a cat is right? It’s like the opposite of a dog.”

“Hell, I know what a cat is,” RedEye scoffed. “Ain’t no cats in here.”

“Then where is it!” 

Without another word, Brian turned and marched out of the studio still calling for his cat. RedEye watched him in utter bemusement but after a quick glance at his radio equipment he decided to follow to see what madness this was. Quickly he caught up to Brian who was looking behind some pipes in the hallway.

“Bloodmouth, you didn’t have no cat when you came in here-”

“Yes I did!” Brian cut RedEye off and whirled to stare at him. “It was in my hood and now it’s gone.”

“You’re crazy. You sure you didn’t hit your head or something?”

Brian narrowed his eyes to slits. He stalked off down the hall past the break room to RedEye’s bedroom, slamming the door open and marching inside to the sound of loud protestation from its owner. Brian was too worried and agitated to pay much attention to the radio host who had decided to shadow him rather than either help or go back to work. Spitefully Brian began making more mess than necessary as he rummaged around the shelves allowing books and trinkets covered in years of dust to fall to the floor. 

“Bloodmouth-”

“I’m going to find my cat,” Brian snapped in anticipation of a warning. He watched as an empty and rusted can fell to the floor and rolled across the bedroom. RedEye’s mess was beginning to add to his anger. “Don’t you throw anything away?”

Brian whirled to face RedEye, a handful of mouldering magazines clutched between his fingers as evidence. He instantly dropped them to the floor.

“My cat!”

There, enjoying the warmth on an old chair near a smouldering mesh trash can was the cat with all its legs tucked beneath its skinny body. Brian swept across the room to scoop up the scrawny animal and he immediately presented it to RedEye.

“I told you! I  _ told  _ you it was real! I told--”

“It looks like you,” RedEye observed, cutting Brian off before he could continue. “It’s got big ears and black stripes where your sideburns are—“ He laughed, interrupting himself. “It’s even got a dumb little beard! What’s it called? Bloodmouth Junior?”

“Mow,” said the cat as if responding to RedEye’s mocking words. This set him off into a further fit of laughter.

“No.” Brian bristled. It had never occurred to him to actually name the animal so he paused to look at it contemplatively. “Its name is...hmm...Bottlecap.”

“Are you freakin’ serious?” RedEye howled.

Brian drew his cat closer to him, watching in annoyance as RedEye practically killed himself laughing. The cat did not seem affected in the slightest.

“Okay...okay—” RedEye sat down on the bed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Why did you call it that? Why not—” and he choked back a gale of laughter, “why not  _ bottle cat _ ?”

Brian waited until RedEye had calmed down before speaking. “Because I think it’s cute.” 

“Shit, Bloodmouth, you’re an idiot.” RedEye shuffled and placed his hands in his pockets, watching Brian and the cat. He huffed good naturedly, “you make me laugh though.”

* * *

 

**Elsewhere**

The radio had been quiet recently, the listener observed. The crackling broadcast, although it still played, had been stuck in a loop that repeated ad infinitum, devoid of the news updates that had once piqued his attention. If he were a man to second guess himself, he would be having doubts that he had ever heard the name  _ Bloodmouth  _ on the airwaves, but he was not that kind of man. He knew he had heard the name, he had heard the deed and it all matched up, but why had the station ceased updating?

For a time he had assumed that he had simply lost the signal, after all was really much too far away to even be receiving it. A complicated series of relays bounced the signal to him, although prone to dropping out in bad weather, they were mostly stable. That had all changed in a day however when the signal had suddenly come through clear as day, the obnoxious radio host’s words blaring out loud enough to startle those nearby.

In the days following the improvement of the signal, the recordings had become more sparse and news reports had returned. Somewhat distracted sounding, but they were there again and this pleased the listener. Especially when he once again heard the name  _ Bloodmouth  _ mentioned in passing.

A thin grin split his face; a memory from long ago stirred by the broadcast from Nuka World. Those closest to him looked on warily as the words escaped his mouth in a low, unpleasant growling mockery of the park’s theme song.

_ “What if there was a place with all the zip of Nuka-Cola. Wouldn’t that be the cheer-cheer-cheeriest place in all the world? _ ”


	10. Chems

“I brought you some meat,” Brian grinned, brandishing a plated chunk of something brown and pink and very ambiguous.

“I hate how you just say ‘meat’ - like it could be anything. How do I know what I’m eating?” RedEye considered the food, trying to identify its origins.

“It's fine,” Brian insisted, although he declined to elaborate any further on the origin of the mystery meat. 

Leaving RedEye to cautiously poke at the food, Brian wandered around the cramped studio space, pushing buttons and spinning dials until he was interrupted by a frustrated and exaggerated sigh.

“Don’t do that.”

Brian looked RedEye right in the eyes and pointedly spun a large dial. 

“You don't even know what half this shit does, admit it.” 

Brian leaned over the mixing desk so he was within touching distance of the radio host. RedEye narrowed his eyes and casually moved his food out of Brian's reach.

“Guess what?” Brian ploughed ahead, not giving RedEye any time to guess. “When I was back at my house getting that meat, I brought back some good chems too. Not your run of the mill mentats or nothing, good shit for smoking and chilling out.” Brian rested his head in a hand, “consider it thanks for letting me crash here. I’d hate to be in your debt  _ again _ .”

RedEye took a bite of his food while he considered Brian's offer. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Expectantly he held out a hand to take the offered chems, but Brian simply wandered away out of sight. RedEye rolled his eyes and decided to finish his food before locating where Brian had disappeared to. He flipped a switch to set his broadcast to a recording while he ate. Although Brian had healed from his infection, he showed no signs of leaving and now that he knew the location of the radio building, he seemed to come and go as he pleased. RedEye smiled to himself, although the smile dropped from his face accompanied by a twang of guilt when he became aware of two piercing blue eyes watching from the other side of the tall bookcases that divided the studio in half.

“Are you coming or not?” Brian asked.

RedEye knew that on the other side of the shelves was an old, battered mattress that he sometimes used to sleep on when the walk to his real bed seemed too far. Usually he was blackout drunk or too high to navigate a long hallway.

“I’m eating.”

The eyes blinked once before disappearing out of sight. RedEye could hear rummaging and shuffling, so with curiosity bearing on him, he bolted what was left of his food. When RedEye eventually joined him, Brian was rummaging in a tin box from which he pulled what appeared to be a hand rolled cigarette. 

Casually Brian reclined on the mattress with his back against the wall and his legs crossed at the ankle. He focused on lighting the mysterious cigarette. RedEye nudged aside a small collection of empty bottles and then nudged Brian aside too.

“Man, get out of the way. You take up too much space for such a small guy.”

Brian drew on his cigarette and let the smoke curl into the air. He chose to ignore RedEye’s comments since he wasn’t best pleased about his height, or lack thereof, being pointed out. 

“I got here first. You snooze, you lose.” 

Brian chuckled and passed the cigarette to RedEye. He shuffled to the side to give his friend some room.

“It’s my damn mattress,” RedEye griped. He inhaled deeply on the chems, holding the smoke in his lungs before blowing it out in a thick plume. “Man, what is this?”

Brian plucked the roll of chems from RedEye’s fingers. “Day tripper, but I ground it up and put it in with regular tobacco. Good, right?”

“Yeah.” 

RedEye shuffled to make himself more comfortable. He felt pleasant and amiable and at ease with the world. He stretched himself out, folding his hands across his chest. Smoke had begun to fill the room and he breathed it in deeply. He shuffled lower, fidgeting to get comfortable until he eventually twisted himself into a pleasing position where the springs of the ancient mattress didn’t dig into him. 

“Don’t smoke it all.” RedEye raised a hand and awaited the return of the cigarette.

Brian passed the chems back. Through the haze of smoke, he reached out to run his hand over the top of RedEye’s head, which was on a level with his hip. Sluggishly he traced his fingers back and forth.

“Heh, your hair is really puffy,” Brian observed, chuckling to himself at what he thought was a clever observation. He watched a plume of silvery smoke snake upwards from RedEye’s mouth. 

“Man, I wish I had my guitar,” RedEye muttered. The instrument was still on the opposite side of the room, out of reach and it might as well have been a world away.

“Aw, you gonna sing me a song?” 

Brian had made no attempt to move his hand, his fingers continued to flex back and forth across the surface of RedEye’s head.

“Nah I just, I dunno, I just wanna strum a few chords.” As if to emphasise this fact, RedEye lifted his hands so they were within Brian's line of sight and mimed playing a guitar.

Brian huffed in amusement. Affectionately he let his own hand stray down RedEye’s cheek, following the line of his facial hair. 

“Let’s tell secrets,” Brian suggested in a whimsical, airy way. In the haze of his mind he recalled that he used to do something similar a very long time ago.

“What?”

“You know, tell me something I don't know about you and I'll do the same.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It's good chem chat. I'll go first.” With his inhibitions dulled, Brian had no issue with sharing information that could be used against him. “I'm colourblind.”

RedEye tilted his head so he could look suspiciously up at Brian. “Like...everything is black and white?”

Brian shrugged, he had no basis for comparison and he didn’t know what black or white were to an average pair of eyes. “I guess. Your name means nothing to me. I got no fucking clue what red looks like. I mean I know it’s a colour but only because someone told me. Anyway, your turn.”

“You're not so bad for an asshole raider,” RedEye laughed.

“We’re all asshole raiders,” Brian concluded. “That’s no secret.”

RedEye shifted so he could see Brian's face. “I…” He wanted to say the first words that were on the tip of his tongue, that he had taken advantage of Brian to send him off on a dangerous quest that he himself could not be bothered to do. Perhaps he could mention how he had watched him and what he had seen. Maybe, his brain seemed to suggest in a haughty, know-it-all voice, he could even admit what he had felt. At the last moment he changed his mind.

“This game sucks. Tell me about the first person you killed.”

Brian wasn’t too happy with the change of subject, but his boastful nature forced him not to refuse to answer the request. 

“I killed someone just because I could,” he began, “I don’t even know who they were--” 

Brian squinted, trying to remember the face of the person he had first killed; it seemed so long ago now, one more nameless face at the bottom of a very long list. 

“They did nothing to wrong me, not really. I was just in a bad mood and they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Also I had just got a gun--”

“The gauss rifle?”

“No. Just some shitty pistol, but I felt powerful with it. I was a bad shot so they didn’t die straight away, just a whole lot of yelling, which annoyed me even more. You know what it’s like, when they start fucking screaming and causing a scene?”

“Mmm,” RedEye nodded. He took a deep inhale on the rapidly shrinking roll of chems and blew the smoke out in a long plume, taking advantage of the fact that Brian was talking and seemed to have forgotten about smoking. 

“Anyway like I said, this guy is screaming and asking why I shot him and I told him I didn’t know - he was just there.” Brian laughed lightly. He had decided the person he killed was a man. All he could really remember was the eyes. “The light went right out of his eyes then, like you could just tell he was thinking I was some wasteland nutjob and he was going to die. Which he did. Shot him in the head, point blank. Turns out his life was worth a handful of caps and haha...a really nice coat.” 

“You shoot a guy and steal his clothes? You jackass.”

“I still look good in that coat though,” Brian beamed. 

In RedEye’s opinion Brian’s coat was too big and looked ridiculous. He watched while Brian stroked the bedraggled furry collar of the coat with reverence, lost in the texture of the fur. 

“You could have killed someone your size.”

“Shall we go kill someone right now?” Brian abruptly and excitedly asked, either ignoring or not hearing RedEye’s comment. His fingers moved away from his collar and drummed across the bare skin of his companion's neck.

“No, I’m way too high to get up...should I be worried about your hand around my neck?”

“It's when my teeth are at your throat that you should be worried,” Brian huffed, his tone difficult to read as to whether or not he was serious. 

Deftly Brian plucked the roll of chems from between RedEye’s fingers and transferred it to his own mouth. He shuffled, awkwardly changing his position so he was sitting with his legs crossed in a meditative pose. With his body arched, he hovered over the hazy, pliable man whose head lay in his lap. 

“Inhale.”

Brian took a draw of the chems, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs. Leaving his hands either side of RedEye's face, he lowered his head so his lips were within kissing distance before slowly breathing out a small stream of smoke. He was pleased to feel a pull of air that inhaled the silver trail from his mouth. With a final puff, Brian blew out the last of the smoke. It was then that he was suddenly curious. The bizarre way RedEye had reacted to him when he had returned, the slight changes in his behaviour, the blanket Brian had found draped over him...maybe it meant something.

Emboldened by the chems, Brian lowered his head to seal the slight gap between their lips. He sensed no resistance other than caution, perhaps surprise. Tangled in the moment, it took all of Brian's willpower to lift his head away, he remained hovering an inch or two above RedEye's face, allowing the other man to exhale his lungful of smoke. Brian let it curl around his face, winding in tendrils into his hair. When the smoke had dissipated, Brian remained hovering and neither man moved for seconds that hung like minutes. Brian made to move away guessing he had read the signs wrong, but in a flash of movement hands were on either side of his face. For a beat, nothing happened but then Brian was pulled down to once again seal the slight gap between them.

Brian was surprised as he was pulled into a kiss that seemed to have more behind it than just playfulness stemmed from the chems. He could almost feel the frustration through the rough and aggressive way RedEye’s lips pressed against his own. This wasn’t on a par with the carefree, chem-addled way Brian had kissed him and Brian was breathless, his brain foggy by the time RedEye pulled away. 

“Pass me the chems,” RedEye muttered.

Brian moved away. He took the cigarette and placed it gently in RedEye’s mouth before rolling so they laid side by side. The chems gave him a dopey, affectionate nature so softly Brian lay his head on RedEye’s shoulder and watched as great clouds of smoke billowed into the air.

From the sides of his eyes, RedEye glanced at Brian. Brian, who did not seem perturbed by his actions, and in fact seemed pleased, leaning against him like they were lovers. RedEye sighed and automatically he extended an arm to wrap around him.

Brian felt flushed with happiness when the arm wrapped around him and he felt himself pulled close against the other man's body. He brushed his fingertips back and forth over RedEye's chest, lazily enjoying the affection.

“Bloodmouth,” RedEye began, and he caught Brian's hand in a way that sent a tingle of excitement down Brian's spine. Brian looked at him expectantly but no other words came from the radio host, his lips were parted as if he had meant to continue but ultimately he closed his mouth.

Brian tilted his head, he was curious but decided not to push. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, happy as he was to lie curled in RedEye’s arms. A long time had passed since he had enjoyed such a peaceful moment with someone else. If it was all just a result of chems then so be it, he was happy to live in the moment. Silently he focused on playing with the hand that still held onto his own, his thoughts idle and light-hearted.

“You got tough fingers. Guitar fingers, heh.” Brian wistfully examined the callused fingertips.

“Yeah, how'd you know that?” RedEye huffed. “I mean other than the obvious fact that I play guitar.”

“I used to know a guy who played bass, he had the same thing. That...was a long time ago.”

RedEye’s lips curled into a smile as if he had just been let in on some big secret, “So musicians are what you're into?”

“Nah, that's just a coincidence, although I do like skilled fingers.” Brian grinned cheekily, “I assume you got skilled fingers?”

RedEye laughed, suddenly at ease with the little raider and this position. “You bet I do. Maybe I'll show you sometime.”

Brian responded with laughter of his own, pleased with this information and the flirtatious tone it had been delivered in. Lazily he looked RedEye over, considering him as carefully as the chems in his system would allow. For the first time he became aware of the faint sound of a radio recording, buzzing and crackling through speakers too small or too far away to fill the room with sound. Brian hummed along in a disjointed, tuneless fashion for a while. He huffed in amusement, “why is it always this song that plays?”

RedEye shrugged, “that’s just the way it works. I guess the radio likes this one.”

Brian shuffled to make himself comfortable. Memories of listening to the same song in Cappy’s Cafe so long ago caused his mouth to twitch into a smile. That barmaid had been so condescending and smug about knowing it had been a recording. He fanned his fingers out across RedEye’s chest, lightly drumming them but hopelessly off beat to the rhythm of the music.

“Who's this song about? You never say if it's a guy or a girl,” Brian asked with the curiosity and bluntness that came along with his chems. He had never seen RedEye with anyone else, but then again he reminded himself, prior to the scene in Cappy’s, he had never actually seen RedEye.

“This song that ain’t about me?”

“Yeah,” Brian rolled his eyes. “Is it about a guy or a girl?”

“I don't know, it's about a friend.”

Brian slapped his hand on RedEye's chest in frustration. “Oh my God. I'm just gonna assume it's about a ghoul- no, wait, a super mutant! Doesn't matter since it's not about you!”

RedEye laughed but decided to end the conversation there. Firmly he tugged Brian closer and pressed their lips together to silence him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF.


	11. Guitar At Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tries to ignore unpleasant memories of his past that are resurfacing.

Brian shuffled and grumbled, his face was pressed into the soft surface of a pillow and although he was otherwise comfortable, something had woken him up. Sleepily, Brian propped himself up on his elbow and looked around. Momentarily he felt disoriented: this was not his house, nor was it the sofa he had spent so many nights on in the radio building. When his brain finally caught up with him he remembered that he was in RedEye’s bed, but he was alone, the covers on the other side ruffled and the sheets creased but the fabric cool to prove no one had been there for a long time. Eventually Brian became aware of the soft sound of music filtering into the bedroom from outside.

In the corner of the bedroom, part of the wall had fallen down leaving an opening onto the roof of the neighbouring building. Although a curtain had been draped across, it did little to block out the breeze and the sound. From behind the drape Brian peeked out. Nuka World at night was one of his favourite things; even to Brian's colourblind eyes what was left of the twinkling lights against the starry sky looked hauntingly beautiful. He could only imagine what the place might have looked like all lit up. That night the eerie beauty of the dilapidated theme park was added to by the lonely, melancholy sound of RedEye's guitar as he quietly picked at it. To accompany the chords that he strummed, Brian could just make out RedEye softly singing to himself, but the words were indecipherable. 

Although it was tempting to make his presence known, Brian didn't want to interrupt what was obviously meant to be a private moment. He felt his heart thud with a sudden spike of affection, but something else crept in alongside his happiness. Like a shadow, memories that he had tried so hard to suppress forced their way to the surface. Looking out at the twinkling lights, Brian found it uncomfortably close to looking at the Manhattan skyline. He had once stood in the doorway of his apartment, looking onto the balcony at sunset. A long haired man, reclined on a sun lounger had played a fluid bassline on his guitar, unaware of Brian's presence. 

Brian shook his head to try to rid himself of the memory, but his heart ached and each chord that was played in the present cut into him like a knife. Had it really been over two hundred years? Even Manhattan itself was gone, reduced to rubble and ash. Total atomic annihilation that had taken everything from him.

A groan escaped his throat, and Brian rubbed his hand over his face. He had to stop dwelling on the past; he couldn't change what had been, and even letting anyone in this tough, savage world know where he had come from would be exposing a dangerous weakness. As far as they all knew he was twenty seven and born in the Commonwealth, not a Brooklyn boy who was over two hundred thanks to the brains at Vault Tec.

Brian decided to creep away, to go back to bed and pretend he had never been up. Hopefully his dreams would be kind to him.

\--

Noise rang all around him, a cacophony of sound that many would have shied away from. Men and women shouted and bawled at the top of their lungs, aggressive and almost primal in their behaviour. Brian was surrounded by them but he felt no fear. Numbers and three-letter codes rapidly shifted on a board above him but he couldn’t focus on them. Maybe they weren’t important.

When he looked down at himself his beloved coat was gone, replaced by a smart suit and tie so he matched everyone around him. A sea of people all dressed alike that formed an impassable mass. Amidst the swarm of suits, Brian’s eyes were drawn to a tall figure who did not blend in in the slightest. Dressed in a loosely fastened plaid shirt, he stood watching Brian with deep brown eyes, a smile upon his face.

“Soren!” Brian called, his voice somehow cutting above the racket.

Soren rose a hand to wave and Brian took a step closer. All at once the throngs of people seemed to thicken and become a thick tar-like mass of black suits which he could not get through. He shoved and elbowed but not a single person turned their face to him - they were all taller and he was swallowed up. Soren’s face came in and out of view, his hand beckoning Brian closer as he fought to get through the crowd. 

An electronic bell rang and everything turned to chaos. Brian was yelling, reaching out in desperation but he was being crushed and trampled on. Before the sea of black swallowed him he caught sight of Soren’s eyes staring back at him with disgust and disappointment.

\--

Brian woke with a jolt into a room full of sunshine. He ran a hand over his face and a low groan escaped from his lips as he recalled his dream. Once again he realised he was alone, although he was relieved that RedEye hadn’t been witness to him waking up in such a way. 

In an effort to push away the dream, Brian trailed outside to where RedEye had been the previous night, hoping that his company would prove to be distracting. Unsurprisingly the guitarist was still in the same chair, his instrument laid across his lap. Brian couldn't tell if he was awake or not, so he wandered over.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?”

RedEye exhaled softly, his fingers automatically straying to pluck at the strings of his guitar. “Just playing, man.”

“You're up early,” Brian prompted. He decided to take a seat on the floor beside RedEye's chair. The soft picking of the guitar strings was pleasing and calming. 

“I've been here most of the night.” The guitarist seemed maudlin and out of character. “Just playing out my thoughts.”

Brian ached to ask what was on RedEye's mind; what bothered him so much that he was acting so out of sorts. Or maybe this was common and he was just still getting to know him beyond his radio personality. Perhaps he spent most of his nights outside: Brian had never shared a bed with him before so he didn’t know. Brian tilted his head so it was leaning on the armrest of the chair; he didn't really want to stay out in the heat and risk sunburn, and was about to suggest going back inside when the odd pressure of a hand on top of his head caused him to remain in place. Idly his hair was stroked and toyed with, brushed about in an awkwardly affectionate gesture.

“You just go to sleep without a care in the world. Like you never worry you're gonna wake up with all your stuff gone or your throat cut.”

Brian shrugged, “we all gotta sleep sometime, I guess I'm just taking my chances.”

“ _ I _ guess you're lucky. Man, I've watched you though and you sleep like a baby. That ain't normal around here.”

“That’s not normal that you watch me sleep.”

RedEye lifted his hand away from Brian's head to continue picking at his guitar, filling the silence rather than responding. 

Brian squinted up at him, “how come you don't sleep?”

RedEye hissed a soft curse as he inadvertently plucked the wrong string; evidence that Brian's question had distracted him. “I just don't,” he muttered eventually after a long pause. “Look, at first I figured you couldn't be trusted because who can around here? Like I was gonna wake up with all my stuff gone, or you had some agenda like you were gonna eat me...but then I thought to myself, this guy is just an idiot. He ain't gonna hurt me for whatever stupid reason, he just goes to sleep like he's tucked up all safe in one of them underground vaults--”

Brian swallowed at RedEye’s choice of words. There was no way he could possibly know, his words were nothing but coincidence but they still made him feel uncomfortable. Brian pushed himself to his feet and stood behind the man in the chair. Gently he tilted RedEye's head back so he could kiss him. The lips that responded were drowsy and dry, moving sluggishly as if they were too heavy for their owner to move properly. Brian moved away, crouching so he could rest his chin on RedEye's shoulder. A pressure on his head told him RedEye had tilted his own head to the side to lean into him. 

An ache spread through Brian’s chest; desire and yearning smoldered deep within him, a spark that left unchecked would turn into a blaze that could consume him entirely. His dream had rattled him and put him on shaky ground, and more than anything in that moment he needed some kind of reassurance. He needed to know that at the very least his affection was mutual and based in something other than plain lust.

“I really like you,” Brian admitted, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for RedEye’s sharp ears. “But I don’t know where we’re going or what we could be…”

RedEye appeared daunted, the only sound came from his tense breathing. When he eventually found his words, his voice sounded quieter than Brian ever recalled hearing it. “What do you want us to be?”

“You already know how I feel about you,” Brian offered. “I just...I guess I want to know we’re on the same page here…”

RedEye hummed a thoughtful response, licking his lips. His silence caused Brian to panic and so he began rambling and back-pedalling. Words tumbled out of his mouth in a cascade. Even as he spoke he wished he could shut up since the one thing he did want was an actual relationship, but somehow in this world that seemed too tame, too domestic, and a weakness that would get him killed.

Ultimately he was silenced as RedEye pulled him close and pressed their lips together in a swift, hard, but clumsy kiss. Brian could only make a muffled sound of protest before softening and accepting the end to his words. 

When RedEye pulled away he hovered cautiously mere inches from Brian's face. “And people say I never shut up,” he breathed with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, what do you want, Bloodmouth?”

A million thoughts and answers rushed through Brian's head. He wanted nothing more than to solidify the casual thing they had into something more secure. He wanted RedEye for himself but he didn't know if that was a feeling the radio host reciprocated, it felt as if they were dangling very precariously, and could fall apart easily. 

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

It was RedEye's turn to look confused and taken aback. He had expected Brian to give him an actual answer but no, just a frustrating question that was obviously the little raider playing for time.

“Bloodmouth? It's your name, dummy. What else am I meant to call you?”

“My name is Brian. Bloodmouth feels so impersonal.”

“Bloodmouth Brian.” RedEye swilled the words around his mouth, “you want me to call you that? You know if this is some attempt to get my real name then it ain't gonna work; it's just RedEye.”

“Brian is fine.”

“Alright,  _ Brian _ , what do you want?”

Brian exhaled slowly. He blinked, holding his eyes closed for an extended period before opening them again. “I'd really like to stay like we are now. You...you're great. I just wanna stay with you. I think we'd be good together.”

RedEye narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if trying to detect any deception behind Brian’s words. All he could see was someone who looked about as nervous as he felt so tentatively he set his guitar aside and gestured for Brian to come into his arms. Brian immediately curled into a ball on RedEye’s lap, flushed with happiness as arms cautiously wrapped around him.

“You're fucking weird as hell, Bloodmo-- uh, Brian.” RedEye smoothed a hand over the fabric of Brian’s coat, ironing out the crinkles with his palm while he played for time. “Alright.” he finally nodded, “we could make a go of it.”


	12. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of problems would be solved if people just used their words and didn't habitually tell lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a thorn in my side since I started editing Luck Only Lends for posting. My plan was that I wasn’t going to include any sex scenes (there’s several places prior to this where parts of the story end a bit weirdly because I’ve cut them out!) but it felt like editing this out would be more effort than it’s worth. In the end I just decided to hell with it and left it in because it transitions to an important conversation that leads to the next chapter. Some of their dialogue probably seems a bit out of place since they're referring to previous...adventures.  
> That being said, if that isn’t your thing then please read up to the part where they’re in the meat hall! Then maybe scroll to the very end to read the conversation about the deathclaw.

Rain hammered down on Nuka World like millions of tiny bullets, the sound increasing until it stirred Brian from sleep. Where the air had been clammy and close, there was a shift that meant only one thing: a storm was coming. Not a radstorm, Brian hoped, but he enjoyed a good thunderstorm, so he wriggled, shuffling against the arms that were tangled around him. A storm would be worth staying awake for.

The first rumble of thunder came quietly, nothing more than a creaking, grumbling sound barely audible over the rain. Lightning flashed seconds later, illuminating the bedroom for a brief moment. Brian was thrilled by it all and happily waited the storm out; he found the sounds relaxing.

When the thunder crashed right above them, it became apparent that Brian wasn't the only one awake. Arms that had been loosely draped around him suddenly tightened and pulled him close; Brian guessed the sound had startled RedEye awake but he remained quiet, expecting the sudden shock to pass and for the arms to loosen.

They did not. 

Along with the next peal of thunder, Brian felt himself squeezed tighter; they must be lying in a way that did not account for their usual height difference, as Brian felt RedEye's head tuck beneath his chin. His breathing was frenetic, and Brian creased his brow in confusion and concern, his hands automatically twitching to reach out. He lingered without actually touching, his movement frozen as if stilled by the flashbulb of lightning that enabled him to see RedEye instinctively screw up his face, hunching his shoulders and drawing his chin down to his chest. 

_ Oh _ , Brian suddenly realised.  _ You're scared _ .

A million thoughts crossed Brian's mind; should he try to comfort the other man? He was fairly sure that RedEye thought he was still asleep. Eventually Brian settled for what he hoped came across as a sleepy, automatic response, as he draped his arms around RedEye. The storm seemed to be moving away, but with each crackle, Brian could feel the tension pulse through his partner's body. Thunder and lightning seemed such a childish thing for RedEye to be scared of, especially considering he was a raider and not just an innocent settler on a farmstead somewhere. Brian couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to instill such a fear.

Throughout the rest of the night, until the storm subsided, curiosity chewed at Brian about the uncharacteristic behaviour he had witnessed. He lay awake, watching RedEye until he was certain he had gone back to sleep, and the gentle pit-pat of rain was the only thing left remaining of the storm.

**

Morning rolled around and with it came another day of clammy, close weather. Brian kicked off the sheets, unable to stand being confined any longer; the warmth was smothering and he cast a glance in RedEye’s direction as if blaming him for contributing. RedEye stirred slightly at the disturbance but simply rolled over and continued sleeping. Brian supposed he shouldn’t wake him up for no reason, so leaving him alone he slid out of bed and scuffed off toward the kitchen. 

Yawning widely, Brian poked around, opening cupboards and coolers that largely contained the fruit of his hunts. He sniffed and prodded at a lump of meat in an attempt to recall what kind of animal it had come from. Maybe he would cook eggs, he thought as he pushed the meat aside and turned his attention to a clutch of large, pock-marked mirelurk eggs. He pulled one out and began jabbing at the tough shell with his hunting knife, smiling to himself at the domesticity of his task. 

As he worked, he found his thoughts once again wandered to the thunder, and RedEye’s fear of it. He ached to ask, but he knew he shouldn’t. Perhaps, Brian thought, if he was extra nice then RedEye would be forthcoming with the information and would talk on his own. He poked at the eggs as they sizzled in a large, chipped frying pan. On the other hand, Brian frowned, RedEye would probably tell a complete nonsense story. 

Brian tipped the eggs out onto two scuffed and damaged Nuka World souvenir plates which he carried back to the bedroom while attempting not to trip over his cat who wound between his legs. RedEye looked to still be sleeping so Brian crept around the bed and took a seat on the broken mattress. 

“Wake up, I have eggs,” Brian announced. 

RedEye stirred and grumbled, his eyes opening a slit. “What…?”

“Eggs.”

“Eggs? What’re you talking about?” Feebly, RedEye rubbed at his eyes and propped himself up slightly. He sniffed the air, confusion on his face at the unusual smell from the food. 

“I made eggs for breakfast,” Brian repeated in exasperation. He placed one of the plates by RedEye’s arm and gestured towards it.

RedEye hazily blinked at the food. Sleepily he pushed himself to a sitting position and pulled the plate onto his lap. Carefully and somewhat suspiciously, he nibbled at the egg before nodding his approval. “Where’d you get ‘em?” Before allowing Brian to answer the question, he laughed croakily, “I know for sure these ain’t people.”

Through a mouthful of breakfast Brian mumbled his answer, “by the lake.” He swallowed and shuffled into a more comfortable position. “I used to always have fried eggs for breakfast, and coffee. It’s a good way to set you up for the day.”

“They’re real good,” RedEye nodded, scraping his plate clean. He set down his fork and fixed Brian with a piercing gaze, “Now, what do you want?”

“Nothing! I just thought I’d be nice and make you breakfast! Can’t a guy do that?”

RedEye looked immediately suspicious and Brian suddenly felt very transparent in his plans.

“I uh...thought I would go hunting today. You want to come with me? Shoot things. It’ll be fun, and you can’t do it on an empty stomach!”

“Right.” RedEye nodded, “hunting.” 

“So you want to come with?”

“Alright,” RedEye assented.

**

“Damn it's so damn hot.” 

RedEye held his hand up to shade his eyes from the glare of the sun. He was beginning to regret agreeing to go hunting with Brian; there were infinitely easier ways to get food and have fun. Ahead of him Brian trotted, still wearing his winter coat, his gun slung over his shoulder. 

“Ain’t you hot?” RedEye asked.

Brian turned, immediately his pink face and forehead beaded with sweat gave an obvious answer. “No,” he replied.

“Are you kidding me? Take your stupid coat off.”

Brian ignored the suggestion but glanced about; in the distance was an old bus which he figured would be a decent source of cover so without another word he began loping toward it. The bright sunlight and barren landscape was bleaching his vision and making everything difficult, so some shade would be welcome.

“Man, I don't know what you think we're gonna shoot. Everything is gonna be hiding from this sun,” RedEye complained. 

“You're going to scare everything off because you never shut up,” Brian muttered. He pulled his gun into his hands as they approached the bus, ready for anything that may be lurking within, but the old vehicle was deserted save for the bones of the former driver, still propped at the wheel.

RedEye dropped down into one of the seats, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the gloomier light. “It ain't much cooler,” he griped.

Brian ignored him, choosing instead to poke around the old bones for anything salvageable. He found a worn and battered hat, and to his delight a pair of sunglasses dangling precariously on the old skull. Happily Brian put on the sunglasses before returning to RedEye whose head he plonked the hat onto.

“You look like a bus driver from the worst borough,” Brian laughed while his grumpy hunting partner pulled the hat off to look at it.

RedEye opened his mouth to respond, but Brian abruptly sat up straight, his eyes wide and a hand held up. A silencing hiss escaped through his teeth, and with his other hand he reached for his gun. As RedEye listened, he could hear shuffling, snorting noises coming from behind him, from outside the bus. He glanced to Brian’s face, alert and focused like a predator stalking its game. Perhaps Brian knew what the grotesque, garbled grunting sound belonged to, but RedEye certainly did not and that did not make him feel at ease.

Brian fluidly and silently slipped from his seat before stalking soundlessly out of the bus. In his seat, RedEye twisted slowly to look down from the dirty window. He could see something moving, just out of sight, lurking in the periphery of his vision. His fingers tightened around his gun, a million thoughts running through his mind. Should he just wait? Brian hadn’t made any sign that he ought to join him. 

He twisted to look in the opposite direction where he could see Brian lurking motionless at the rear of the bus. The small, skinny man had his ridiculously oversized weapon raised, and not for the first time RedEye wondered how Brian could even lift it. 

A dazzling blue flash accompanied the gunshot, which rang in the air and the ears of anyone nearby for many long seconds. Silence followed, notably devoid of the grunting and snuffling, until the sound of Brian’s footsteps crunching on the pebbles and grit filled the quiet. A loud, metal bang resounded through the archaic vehicle, and RedEye jumped in surprise.

“Hey, thanks for the help!” Brian’s voice called up sarcastically. 

RedEye glanced down through the window to see Brian standing beneath it, staring up accusingly. With an obvious look of guilt RedEye grinned before snatching his gun and scrabbling out of the bus to find out what kind of creature had met its demise. When he approached Brian, he found him crouching on the ground near a large, ugly looking beast. 

“It’s a yao guai,” Brian announced proudly and boastfully. He held up one of the dead animal’s feet, “look at the fucking claws on it. Lucky I’m the best shot in all of Nuka World. I wouldn’t want one of these slicing me up.”

**

The smell of the meat hall in the hot weather was overpowering even for Brian who was very much used to its cloying, metallic odor. He gagged slightly while carefully navigating his way through the swinging carcasses, eager to put down the heavy weight of the game. He was thankful for RedEye, who was proving to actually be useful for the first time that day. There was no possible way Brian could carry a yao guai alone.

“What do you think it tastes like?” Brian asked chirpily as they set the dead animal down upon the table.

RedEye shrugged. “I don’t know, man, I think it looks sick. You really wanna eat it, it’s your funeral.”

Brian snorted dismissively and leaned against the table. His skin felt tingly and uncomfortable, so he scratched at his collarbone where there had been nothing to protect him from the sun’s rays. “Everything looks sick. This could be the best tasting thing in the Commonwealth.”

“I’ll uh...let you try it first.” RedEye wrinkled his nose and pulled his bandana over his face. “Can we get out of here? This place stinks as bad as a super mutant’s armpit. How the hell do you live here?”

With a nod, Brian gestured toward a door opposite his butcher’s table; peeling letters indicating it had once been a place for the cleaning crew to store their supplies. “I sleep in there, not amongst the meat. Jesus, what kind of lunatic do you think I am?”

A low, feeble groan disturbed their exchange. Brian spun around to face the direction the sound had come from before striding over. “Oh shit, I forgot about you!” 

Within a large cage was the raider Brian had spared; filthy and weak, he looked into Brian’s bright, shining eyes with his own that were bloodshot and dull, glazed over and drained of almost all life.

“Man, you’re the kind of lunatic who does shit like this.” RedEye crouched by Brian’s side so he could look into the cage. “What are you doing with this guy?”

“He and two of his buddies broke into my house.” Brian’s voice raised in anger as he addressed the caged raider, “thought you could just come in here and take my shit huh? Wasn’t such a smart move was it?”

The raider could barely speak, his throat parched and painful. “Please...just let me go.” Imploringly he looked to RedEye, hoping that this stranger may show more mercy than the short man with the fluffy coat who had so far proven to be very unsympathetic.

“Oh, that’s fucking pathetic.” Brian pushed himself to his feet and went back to examining his yao guai. 

By the cage RedEye remained, morbidly fascinated by the hostage. “What are you gonna do with him?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I’m not sure.” Wearily, Brian turned away from the carcass and looked at RedEye. “What do you think?”

“Pike him up near the gauntlet. The old ones are gettin’ shrivelled looking.”

“Great.” Brian didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic; he was more interested in his fresh kill, which he turned back to. “Finish him off then and we can go hang up his remains when it gets cooler.” 

He glanced from the corner of his eye, wondering what RedEye would do. He had never seen the radio host be directly involved in killing anyone. Brian was unsurprised to see RedEye idling about, appearing awkward as to what he ought to do. 

“I’ll do it,” Brian sighed as he made to turn around, his skinning knife in hand.

RedEye, in a sudden burst of movement, snatched Brian’s baseball bat from where it had been left propped against the wall. He gave Brian a defiant glare, his raider status challenged, he swung the bat menacingly. Brian lowered his knife and remained motionless.

“Unlock the cage,” RedEye snapped. 

Casually Brian threw a set of keys in RedEye’s direction, watching with approval as he snatched them out of the air. His interest was fully captured now, and so he leaned back against the table his yao guai lay upon, his arms lightly folded. From the cage, the pitiful raider was dragged with little protest. He was far too weak to put up any fight against RedEye who was well built and now full of rage. Brian barely flinched as the bat wrapped in barbed wire crunched into flesh and bone. He raised his eyebrows as the bat rose and fell a second time. A gurgling scream came from the weak, bloodied raider.

“Hit him again,” Brian said in a low, dangerous voice. 

RedEye, wild-eyed, turned to stare at Brian in such a sudden movement that Brian immediately tensed in readiness for an attack. Without dropping eye contact, RedEye crunched the baseball bat into the bloody, mangled flesh of his victim.

Brian was unsettled. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table. His breath hitched. His teeth bit down into his bottom lip and he chewed it distractedly. Even as flecks of blood spattered onto his skin, he couldn’t tear his eyes away and RedEye was not slow to notice. In an instant there was a clatter as the baseball bat dropped to the ground, a trail of red following it. Predatorily RedEye stalked over to Brian. Brian, who didn’t react until he felt himself shoved firmly against the table, the breath forced from his lungs.

He had no time to react as RedEye’s lips were savagely on his own, kissing him hard and furiously until all he could do was struggle to avoid teeth. Hands gripped his hips and with ease he was lifted onto the table, instinctively wrapping his arms around RedEye’s body and sinking his nails into skin uncovered by clothing. 

RedEye’s lip curled and he lifted his head away but his hold on Brian’s hips did not loosen. 

“Getting off on watching me kill people?” he growled although his eyes shone with excitement. “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re not helping--” Brian caught his breath as RedEye reached up to swipe a speck of blood from his face. His fingers tightened and his nails dug deeper into RedEye’s skin, legs wrapped around him to pull him closer.

In an instant Brian found himself being swept up from the table, aggressively growling against RedEye’s mouth in outrage that he would have the audacity to pick him up. Past the mangled body on the floor and the swinging carcasses, RedEye strode until he reached the tiny room where Brian slept. He shoved the door open with his foot and both of them fell to the bed in an aggressive tangle of limbs.

Brian fought against the weight of the other man, but it was not until his teeth caught and nipped the tender skin of RedEye’s neck that RedEye reared back, temporarily jolted out of the mood that had consumed him. Brian seized the opportunity to shove him aside, regaining some control.

“There’s no way you’re gonna fuck me just so  _ you  _ can get off. Do it properly or you’re gonna get bitten,” Brian snarled. 

RedEye showed his teeth in a thin grin. His eyes followed as Brian reached a hand into the mess on one of the shelves by the bed, his fingers fumbling to reach for something. When he eventually found what he was looking for, he dropped a container onto the mattress, nodding his head toward it while he began wriggling out of his clothes. RedEye pulled it over, poked a finger inside and was pleased when it came away glistening, his grin spreading wider. 

The moment Brian had tossed his jeans aside, he immediately felt RedEye's hands slide beneath him and he was roughly pulled onto the other man's lap. 

“Take your stupid coat off,” RedEye growled.

Breathily Brian laughed, his arms draping over RedEye’s shoulders. 

“Fucking make me-” 

“Whatever. I don’t care. Be a shit.”

Brian inhaled sharply, his playful mocking disappearing in an instant as he was pulled crushingly close, held in a grasp that bordered on painful. His teeth found his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth as a slick finger pushed its way inside him, not exactly gently. Brian tightened his arms around RedEye’s neck, fingers burrowing into his hair, grasping and balling the short strands into his fists. He eagerly spread his legs further apart, his well trained body relaxing enough for a second finger to be added. 

RedEye huffed. He enjoyed the power he had quickly learned that he held over this infamous, cannibalistic raider. As his fingers slid back and forth, he lowered his head, bringing his lips to his partner’s burned chest. Brian had no idea how to process that. A string of wet kisses trailed across his collarbone, teetering right on the line between pain and pleasure. Each movement stung but was instantly soothed with the flick of a tongue. Lost for words, Brian filled the air with moans of pleasure. 

When RedEye's fingers pulled out of him he had only seconds of protestation before he was rolled onto his back, his legs draped around the other’s waist. In an instant he felt the other man entering him with a sudden and savage jerk, and the welcome press of lips against his own, silencing the cry that would have otherwise escaped him. A hand in Brian's hair yanked his head back to expose his neck. In an instant lips were at his throat, kissing and sucking, teeth nipping deliciously at the delicate skin. 

Abruptly RedEye’s kisses returned to Brian's mouth, the fingers in his hair loosening only slightly, but his pace increased. Gagged by lips and tongue, Brian could only make a strangled sound, but his nails scratched and dug in, adding to the lines and half-moon shaped indentations in his partner's already scratched back. He bucked his hips as he felt RedEye take hold of him, thrusting into the now familiar curled fingers that stroked up and down his cock.

Briefly RedEye moved his head to one side, breaking their kiss. His hand and his hips moved faster, building the tension and friction until Brian could stand no more. “Come on, come for me,” he breathed into Brian's ear.

His words were like magic to Brian. His mouth was finally free, and he cried out in a long moan that bordered on a wail of pleasure. He tensed, his hips pushing hard against RedEye's body, desperate to take as much of him as he could while he came completely unravelled. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” RedEye gasped as his partner's body tightened around him. He could feel Brian shake slightly, but his pace was unrelenting and as he pulled the sunburned man into a kiss, he thrust deep and hard into him, growling and groaning. Greedily he pressed his tongue into Brian’s mouth, heavily breathing through his nose as Brian sucked and lapped at him, his hips jerking involuntarily and instinctively into the hot, tight body which throbbed around him.

Shaking with exhilaration, RedEye finally arched his head away, breathing hard. Brian's legs held him in place but he didn't want to move, not yet. Brian’s burned skin was flushed and glistening with sweat, his neck ringed with bruises that he seemed blissfully unaware of. Slowly RedEye pulled out to a sound of protest, and flopped down by Brian's side, breathing hard. 

Brian rolled his head to the side to deliver a final, soft kiss on the lips that had left his own bruised and sore. He smiled a little at the sight of the man who lay with his eyes closed, content and drowsy, but still covered in blood. Mischievously Brian rolled onto his stomach and when he spoke it was in a sing-song voice.

“RedEye,” Brian chimed, “what are you scared of?”

“Nothing,” RedEye breathed without moving or opening his eyes.

Brian exhaled in frustration and pushed himself up, gathering his jeans from where he had discarded them. “That’s bullshit, you must be scared of something-”  _ like storms _ , he thought. “What if a deathclaw bust in here right now? You’d be scared then.”

RedEye opened a single eye to briefly watch Brian before closing it again. “Nah,” he smirked, “I’d kill it. Mount the head on my wall.”

At this, Brian laughed before dropping down so he was leaning on RedEye’s chest, a hugely entertained grin spread across his face. “You’ve killed many deathclaws?” he asked, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“Sure. Man I don’t know how many. Like...a dozen. I mean I could kill more but ain’t many around. And I got other stuff to do.”

“Well-” Brian struggled not to laugh, forcing his face into the most serious expression he could muster. “I have always wanted to kill a deathclaw! How lucky I should be sleeping with an expert! Maybe you would like to come along with me and go hunt one, hmm?” 

RedEye raised his head and the pair locked eyes. He shrugged lightly, deciding to call Brian’s bluff because surely no one was actually stupid enough to go hunting a deathclaw.

“Sure.”


	13. Don't Scare Me Like That Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RedEye calls Brian's bluff but things don't go as planned.

The bus shook violently, rocking on its axles. Brian and RedEye scrambled to stay on their feet, thrown off balance when a second thud rocked the ancient vehicle. Outside, a savage roar bellowed through the wasteland, and the squealing sound of claws on metal caused Brian to tense. He was struggling to hold onto his gun let alone make an accurate shot at the monster outside.

“It’s not gonna give up,” Brian snarled in frustration. 

Before RedEye had a chance to respond there was an explosion of glass as the deathclaw’s hand shattered one of the windows, spraying Brian and RedEye with razor sharp shards. 

“Fuck!” Brian cried, flinging his arms in front of his face.

The blast of a gunshot jarred him, followed by a furious roar. Blood sprayed the interior of the bus and a claw fell with a thump onto the metal floor. The deathclaw quickly withdrew its hand and Brian glanced to RedEye, impressed that he had shot one of the claws off. He had no time to congratulate him on his good shot as the bus rocked again.

Both raiders jumped back, pressed against the far wall of the bus as great, scaled horns pierced the metal. Wide-eyed they stared at the horns, deafening roars filling their ears until they became painful. The deathclaw did not pull away; Brian quickly realised by headbutting the bus it had become stuck, and he leapt up with his gauss rifle in his hands.

“It’s stuck! Now’s our chance, come on!” 

Swiftly, Brian leapt down the stairs and out of the bus. After some hesitation, RedEye followed him. As he rounded the bus he could see the trapped deathclaw, thrashing as it tried to free itself from the metal. Some distance away, Brian held his rifle, aiming for the monster’s head and an explosion of blue light came from the gauss rifle as he fired. 

The deathclaw was not killed by the shot, but in an absolute rage it tore its head away from the bus, rending great slices through the metal. Immediately it turned on Brian, who fired another shot. Blood sprayed from the shoulder of the deathclaw, but the wound was not fatal and the injured creature had become more dangerous.

The deathclaw lunged, and Brian anticipated it would swing its uninjured arm at him so he parried to the left. His prediction had been right, but despite how swift he was, he couldn’t avoid the great tail that swung around, knocking him off his feet and sending him skidding across the gritty earth, his gauss rifle skittering out of his hands.

Winded, Brian gasped for breath, his eyes frantically roving to find the beast and his weapon. The deathclaw found him first, approaching with footsteps that shook the ground. Brian pulled in a breath and scrambled to his feet, backing away as he became the one being hunted.

From the shelter of the side of the bus, RedEye watched fearfully. He could see no way that Brian could defeat the monstrous creature; his gauss rifle lay in the dirt too far for Brian to reach it. Everything had gone so horribly wrong - what had begun as a simple hunting expedition had spiralled out of control. Brian had claimed he had always wanted to kill a deathclaw, and RedEye had instantly announced that he was not scared of the savage creatures and had killed many of them over the years. 

He screwed his eyes up in an attempt to push away the regret - of course he had never killed a deathclaw, but Brian had eaten up the lie and now here they were. When RedEye opened his eyes he could see Brian cornered by the savage monster and in that moment he knew he had to do something. In a split second decision he bolted forward.

The deathclaw bellowed in rage and pain, raising the hand RedEye had shot the claw from. Blood dripped and oozed from the injured finger as it brought the deadly weapon it was named for down to dispatch the small nuisance that cowered before it. 

Brian’s eyes bulged and he felt as if the breath had been ripped from his lungs. Pain spread across his chest like fire, as if someone had splashed acid onto him. He was paralysed with shock, only aware of his frenetic breathing, and through his wildly staring eyes he became aware of the monster before him. The beast slumped to the earth, dripping blood but motionless, its mighty scaled sides lay still.

Brian drew in a shaky breath and staggered, stumbling over himself and crashing to the ground. Through blurred vision he could make out RedEye looming over him and holding his gauss rifle, although he felt as if he was looking up at him through water. Weakly he held up a hand.

“Fuck, Brian...fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” RedEye rambled, his eyes wide in horror. “I gotta get you to a doctor.”

Suddenly Brian felt the world lurch sickeningly around him. He realised he had been picked up. 

“Don’t you die on me,” warned RedEye.

Blood dripped from RedEye’s arms, trickling over his skin from the wounded man that he carried, leaving a trail of crimson spots on the broken earth. Brian gritted his teeth as each footstep sent a spike of pain through his chest. His clothes felt soaked through and heavy, drenched in his own blood.

“I’m gonna die,” Brian groaned feebly.

“No you’re not, shut up. You’re not going to die. I’m gonna get you fixed up.”

Brian rolled his eyes to peer up at RedEye, whose face swam in and out of focus, but what he managed to snatch was not comforting. RedEye, who typically looked so relaxed and cool had a face that was stricken with panic and fear. 

“Oh my God, I don't wanna die,” Brian gasped weakly, his voice coming in rasping spurts. Everything seemed dark but he knew it was a bright day. Beneath him he could feel RedEye's pace increase, and he wondered how far from home they were and if he would make it back alive. It was his last thought before the darkness swallowed him.

**

Brian’s vision swam in and out of focus, as if he was seeing an image on a poorly tuned television set. He snatched moments when he was able to see, but they were disjointed. An unfamiliar woman leaned over him, her hair falling and tickling his face. Once he saw that same woman argue with RedEye in words that sounded as if they were a foreign language for all the sense they made. Sometimes deathclaws were in the room with him and he would scream and struggle until a strange coldness washed over him, plunging his brain back into blackness.

Nothing seemed real. Everything had a dreamlike quality, blurred about the edges, but to Brian the effect was horrifying. When he was able to see things, he yearned to see nothing.

Brian was surprised when words cut through the fog of his brain, crystal clear. Before him he could see familiar eyes. Eyes from his past. Eyes that couldn’t possibly be there because their owner was dead, but they seemed so real. Clumsily, as if his movements were hindered by water, Brian reached a hand to touch the owner of the eyes. He was both relieved and saddened when his fingers brushed nothing but cool air. As his own eyes slipped shut, unable to resist the chems keeping him under his heart ached.

When he woke, he was for the first time, able to see the world coherently. He was in a bed that was not his own, stripped of all his clothes. Weakly Brian raised his hand to touch where he had been in so much pain, and his fingers brushed a dressing. Someone was taking care of him it seemed. Someone had saved his life. He was in the clinic in the Nuka World market.

“Oh, you're finally awake,” a female voice exclaimed. 

Brian rolled his head toward the source of the voice to see a woman in a shock collar. He recognised her instantly as the woman who ran the clinic but to his shame he could not place her name. He knew he had seen her through glimpses of clarity, and knowing she was real gave him some comfort.

“How are you feeling?”

“I know you...you're...in the market?” Brian coughed at the effort of speaking, his mouth felt dry and his throat as parched as old paper. 

“Mackenzie. Mackenzie Bridgeman.”

“Ah,” Brian rasped. He had never known this. “I'm Brian Sinclair.”

She smiled in an almost pitying way. “I know that. How are you feeling, Brian?”

“I've felt better. I’m alive right?”

“Yes, you're alive.” 

Brian closed his eyes and settled into the pillow; he felt weak and heavy as if his body was made of stone, and try as he might he couldn’t remember what had happened to put him here, nor could he find the energy to ask. His brief moment of clarity speaking with McKenzie was soon lost as a sharp prick in his arm spread a coldness beneath his skin, and he sank into the painless, chem-induced fog. 

**

“Wake up you piece of shit.”

Brian couldn't stop his eyes from flicking open at the sound of the familiar voice. “You came,” he croaked.

“I usually do when I'm with you,” RedEye smirked. 

Brian returned a smile of his own, but beyond the teasing exterior he could see tell-tale signs that RedEye had been, and perhaps still was worried. The bags around his eyes looked darker and although Brian had no way of knowing, he guessed the whites would be redder than usual. 

Brian shuffled slightly and in doing so realised that one of his hands was clasped tightly between both of his visitor’s hands. RedEye followed Brian's gaze down to their hands but didn't move, instead he simply looked slightly sheepish. 

“Are you here to take me home?” Brian asked hopefully. 

“Nah, I just came to make sure you weren't dead.” 

“Oh. I wish they'd let me go.” Brian breathed deeply and let his eyes roam over the small room, wrinkling his nose at a strange, fragrant smell. “Did you bring me flowers?” he smirked when he realised the source of the smell was from a vase by his bedside. 

“Huh? Oh. Nah, I figured the doctor put ‘em there.” RedEye huffed in amusement, “I don’t like flowers. Man, did you lose your mind?”

Brian's eyes glazed over, his fingers flexed between RedEye's hands. He guessed the flowers probably had been placed there by McKenzie; she seemed a kind sort who would make the life of even the most disgusting raider a bit more tolerable when he was in pain. He rolled his eyes to look up at RedEye once again. “God, you're so pretty.”

“What the hell…?” 

Brian smiled serenely and let his eyelids droop shut. Everything was just so much effort when he was awake and sinking into the deep pool of his chem-soaked brain was much easier.

**

“He's on a lot of chems for the pain so he's bound to act strangely. I've been injecting him with Med-X twice daily. He won't be sharp again until his wounds have healed over some more.” 

“You make sure nothing happens to him.”

“Well, I'm trying my best. The worst is over for him unless he gets an infection.” 

Bridgeman wearily looked up at the man whose voice she was used to hearing from the radio in the market. She had never really put much thought into what RedEye looked like and she hadn't expected the tall, fairly well built raider who she was cornered by. 

“If he dies I'll make sure you go with him,” RedEye threatened, pausing only briefly from pacing back and forth, his boots thudding heavily with each step. 

Bridgeman could tell simply from his body language and mannerisms that RedEye was tired, and unless he had been sleeping in very short bursts when he wasn’t hounding her, she came to the conclusion that he had been awake for at least three days.

“Mr...Eye,” the doctor began gently, “why don’t you go and get some sleep?”

“I can sleep when I’m dead.”

“Which you will be if you don’t get some rest. Nothing is going to happen to your friend.” Bridgeman eyed RedEye for a moment, deep in thought. “Why not take his things away so they’re safe?”

RedEye didn’t seem to have heard a word she had said, he simply continued pacing back and forth, flitting between anger and anxiety. Bridgeman was used to handling raiders, prone to anger and aggression. She decided to try a different tactic. 

“Don’t you have a radio show to host?”

RedEye stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly to stare at the doctor. “What?”

“Your radio show. You are the same RedEye who does that, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, man, that’s me.”

“Aren’t you worried about someone stealing your show while you’re here?”

“I’d kill anyone who tried.” 

RedEye turned away, dismissing the doctor so he could begin pacing again. His footfalls were heavy, his toes scuffing and catching on the ground with increasing frequency and causing him to stumble. He knew he was tired, his eyes ached and burned, and as skilled as he was at fighting sleep, he knew he couldn’t keep it up forever.

**

The radio building seemed cold and empty, devoid of the large presence of the small raider who was so often there. Bridgeman had, after much struggle, persuaded RedEye to leave the clinic, insisting that he could do nothing and he ought to get some rest. She had bargained that at the very least he could take away Brian's possessions so they were safe, so reluctantly RedEye had returned, knowing he definitely wouldn't sleep. In his arms he held a bundle of clothing and accessories that had been stripped from Brian, the bloodstained gauss rifle slung over his shoulder. Reverently he placed the weapon down against the wall at the foot of his bed.  

Leaving Brian's clothes in a pile, RedEye pulled his guitar over, resorting to his tried and tested method of coping with any difficult emotions. With his thoughts miles away, he strummed a series of chords, fingers moving automatically over the fretboard. Playing didn't distract him but he found it helped to sort the tangle of thoughts that filled his mind. One thought in particular continued to gnaw at him, a thought that he had tried to banish. If he had never lied about the deathclaw, Brian would not be injured. The guilt was a new and unwelcome feeling that sickened him.

**

“You've got a good friend there,” Mackenzie told Brian as she changed the dressing on his wound. “Never a moment seems to go by when he isn't hanging around, threatening me with death if I don't make you better, and all those other things you raiders find so endearing.”

“I love him,” Brian responded dreamily. 

“Ah, so more than a friend. That explains a lot.” Mackenzie wrapped a length of gauze around Brian's skinny frame. “I think he loves you too.”

“Yeah? I hope so.” Brian weakly looked around the small, pokey room, “where is he?”

“I sent him home to sleep before he became another patient for me to look after.” MacKenzie sat back once she was satisfied Brian’s dressing was in place, “I don’t think he slept since bringing you in here...I am certain he’ll be back.”

“Did he bring back our deathclaw?” Brian muttered drowsily. 

“Your deathclaw? What on earth…?”

Brian vaguely indicated his injury as if that explained everything.

**

RedEye stomped back into the clinic in the early hours of the morning. He had slept for a short while, but it was a sleep born of pure exhaustion and he did not feel especially rested. 

Bridgeman saw him coming and rolled her eyes. “Good morning. Did you sleep?”

“Yes.”

The doctor looked sceptical, raising her brows slightly. “Your...friend is sleeping right now. Do not wake him up.”

“Is he better?”

“No, not yet. He’s going to take time to heal.” RedEye didn’t look pleased with this information, so Bridgeman changed the subject, “he asked something about a deathclaw…?”

“Yeah,” RedEye responded impatiently. 

“Wait, before you run off, he asked if you brought it back. So, uh, did you bring a deathclaw back to Nuka World?”

Bridgeman visibly blanched when RedEye looked incredibly guilty all of a sudden. 

“Aw, shit.” RedEye ran his hands through his hair in obvious frustration at some kind of internal dilemma. He chose not to enlighten the doctor, instead turning heel and marching right out of the clinic.

**

Who knew who many days had passed when Brian woke up feeling clear-headed. He winced; his chest hurt, although nothing close to the pain it had been in previously. Slowly he blinked to clear his vision and shuffled himself into a sitting position, taking great care to work around the tight, stitched skin on his chest. It wasn't until he was sitting up that he noticed someone slumped at the bottom of his bed, his head resting on folded arms. Brian grinned and nudged his visitor with his foot. 

“Hey you piece of shit, wake up.”

RedEye stirred and drowsily raised his head. His face split into a wide smile. Wearily he pulled his chair closer, close enough for Brian to see how exhausted he looked. “Hey.”

“You look terrible,” Brian observed. He raised a hand to touch the other man's face, surprised when his touch was leaned into with such obvious affection. “When was the last time you slept? Like, not in a chair.”

“Doesn't matter.” 

Short responses betrayed the radio host’s attempt to hide how tired he was. He was content to let Brian stroke his face, although it would be so very easy for him to let his eyes slide shut and to slip back into sleep. To that end he moved away before he became too comfortable. 

“I'm taking you home, to hell with what the doctor says.”

“God, yes. I want to get out of here so bad.”

“Well that's fortunate.” Bridgeman’s voice interrupted. She strode over, narrowing her eyes at RedEye with such animosity that Brian had to catch himself from asking what had happened between the two of them. “You've healed well enough to go,” she said bluntly. Brian remembered her being much kinder than this but maybe that had been the chems. 

“Good,” RedEye answered on Brian's behalf. He glared at the doctor with vitriol equal to her own.

“As long as you can walk, you can leave.”

“I'll carry him out of here if I have to.”

Brian, tired of being left out of a conversation about him, abruptly decided to interrupt. “Where's my coat?”

“...at home.” RedEye's answer sounded more like a suggestion than a truth. 

Brian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He did desperately want to get out of the clinic but there was something about the vague answer that made him feel anxious about getting home. 

“You'll just have to go the way you are,” Bridgeman suggested. “I'm sure you'll find all of your things safe and sound.” With that she stalked away.

“Goddamn, I hate her. Come on, get up. Let's go.”

Brian, feeling rushed and annoyed, took his time easing himself out of bed. His legs felt stiff and achy from lack of use so he took some time to rub the feeling back into them before looking around expectantly, “you brought me some clothes, right?”

RedEye silently blinked at Brian in such a way that caused Brian to groan in disappointment and exasperation. He wasn’t so desperate to get out of the clinic that he was prepared to walk naked through the streets of Nuka World. 

“Give me your top,” Brian demanded. The tank top that RedEye wore was tight on him, but Brian figured it would be loose enough to serve as a temporary cover.

Reluctantly, RedEye pulled his top over his head before dropping it in front of Brian. 

Brian paused before taking the top to admire his now shirtless visitor, his lips curling into an appreciative and lustful smile. “I feel better already,” he smirked. Careful of his dressing, Brian pulled on the tank top, which swamped him but at least meant he wouldn’t have to be the laughing stock of every raider in the park.

“Oh.” Brian winced as he tried to push himself to his feet, his arms felt shaky when he tried to raise himself off the bed. “I...fuck, can you help me? I don't wanna be carried,” he warned.

RedEye snorted as if amused by a private joke. Nevertheless he slid an arm around Brian's back, allowing him to use his arm as a support. He found it easy to lift the small, skinny man who seemed to have become even skinnier, so with awkward movements Brian finally balanced precariously on two feet.

“I don't trust myself not to fuck up and fall so just keep hold of me ok? I don't wanna end up back here.”

**

Brian quickly discovered that “home” didn't mean his own home, and ultimately he found himself in the radio building. He didn't object although his meagre pile of belongings looked out of place, his gauss rifle propped up alongside RedEye’s guitar. 

“You know, after being in bed for so long I thought that would be the last place I'd want to be but fuck if that walk here didn't take it out of me.” 

Brian slumped onto the mattress, wincing slightly as this jarred his healing injury. He was a little alarmed by how weak he had become, his breathing heavy and exhausted. He didn’t feel tired as much as physically drained with no real desire to sleep, he just wanted to lie still and preserve his meagre amount of energy. Brian was pleased to lie on the familiar bed, arranging himself carefully around his injury. Despite the mattress being ancient and battered, it was comfortable and homely beneath him.

“I want to be in bed,” RedEye mumbled.

“Heh, I bet you do.”

RedEye smiled weakly, his eyes already half shut. “Seriously, I just want to sleep.”

The mattress dipped as RedEye joined him and immediately after Brian felt an arm wrap around him, pulling him close until his back was pressed firmly against RedEye's chest. A leg hooked over his own, completely entangling their bodies. 

“I missed you.” The words were said so quietly that if RedEye's mouth hadn't been so close to Brian's ear, he wouldn't have heard them. “Don't scare me like that again.”

Brian, lost for words, tangled his fingers together with RedEye's and raised his hand so he could kiss the back of it. 

“I mean it. I thought you were going to die and it was the worst feeling in the world. Fuck, I just...I just love you ok?”

Brian's heart thudded so hard he felt sure RedEye would be able to feel it. He felt flushed with happiness, his fingers tightening around the hand he held so closely. “I love you too,” he murmured. 

RedEye settled his chin in the crook of Brian's neck, his eyes closed. Before long his lack of sleep caught up with him; the days he had spent wide awake, pacing, sick with worry, they were behind him and for the moment he was happy. 


	14. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tries to fix his precious coat and there is a lot of fluff...which I promise has a purpose!

The stench of abraxo filled the air causing Brian's eyes to water. He blinked and squinted at the hot milky water that filled a large metal tub; he had scavenged as much abraxo as he could get hold of and had emptied all of it into the water.  Reverently, Brian lowered his coat into the mix, using a baseball bat to prod it to the bottom. He figured that the cleaning agent was so potent that it would take his tattoos off if he got it on his skin.

When RedEye had returned the coat, Brian had been horrified as if he had been presented with the body of a dead and disfigured pet. Days had passed spent alone armed with a needle and thread while he had tried to repair the damage caused by the deathclaw. Brian’s only company had been his cat as RedEye had flatly refused to entertain the bizarre attachment to the coat.

“Brian, what are you doing out here? It smells like a chem lab.” RedEye pulled his bandana over his nose and mouth before he approached. “You cookin’ mentats?”

“I'm doing laundry, get in if you want to be clean.”

“Hell no,” RedEye eyed the tub while wrinkling his face up. “That shit will bleach my skin white.”

Brian chuckled. “I'm getting the blood off my coat.”

RedEye rolled his eyes - Brian's dogged determination to restore his coat had become a source of irritation and he was sick of hearing about it. “Just get a new one! You're gonna end up falling off this roof, high on the fumes of...geez, how many boxes of this stuff did you use?”

“Twenty four.”

“Okay you're definitely gonna die.”

“Nah, fuck off. I'll be fine and I'll be so clean...well, my coat will. Whatever.” Brian paced around the bath full of chemicals before wandering over to RedEye. “I figure it needs to soak.”

“You’re crazy,” RedEye tutted as he gave the bathtub full of abraxo a disapproving glance. 

Brian brushed off the comment and began a slow, meandering wander about the rooftop. He enjoyed the high vantage point from which he could see the people below, safe in the knowledge that unless they looked up then they could not see him.

“I meant to ask, what happened between you and Bridgeman?” Brian questioned as his gaze fell upon the marketplace that was home to the doctor. 

“I told her I'd find a better doctor and pike her head outside the clinic as a warning that they had to do better if she let you die.”

“Ha! No wonder she was so mean to me when I woke up.”

RedEye grinned in a sinister fashion. “That's the short version, I said a lot of things to her. It worked though. You’re still kickin’.”

Lazily Brian leaned against the faux brickwork installed to create the illusion of a cute, kitschy city. Beneath him a giant model of Nuka World’s mascot, Cappy, waved its rusty arm back and forth and his eyes tracked the welcoming figure; in the warm sunlight and his bizarrely cartoonish surroundings, the fact that the world had been torn to shreds was somehow easy to forget. From somewhere far below, unfamiliar music was playing, perhaps from the ever-present classical music station which seemed to encompass the entire commonwealth.

“Hey.”

Brian lifted his head but barely had time to register what was happening before his whole body was spun around. 

“Dance with me.”

To say Brian was confused was an understatement as he felt himself pulled crushingly close to RedEye’s chest. He panicked: he couldn't dance, but he didn't object to being held close, so he obligingly draped an arm over RedEye's shoulder. His other hand remained clasped firmly between his partner’s fingers. Brian couldn't deny that as ridiculous as this was, it was also very sweet and endearing. He followed the footsteps, mainly focusing on not being stepped on. 

“Bloodmouth, you ain’t even trying.”

With a sudden, dizzying flourish, Brian was spun around so he was swept off his feet, only prevented from crashing to the floor by a single hand that pressed to the small of his back.

“Oh of  _ course _ you can dance.” Brian rolled his eyes; he didn't know why he had thought otherwise. 

“Yeah.” In a disjointed fashion RedEye nodded and smiled. He lifted Brian from his dipped position, “just follow me, babe.”

“Babe? Seriously?” Brian snapped his mouth shut as he struggled to match RedEye's natural sense of rhythm. He guessed he could mock the corny pet name later. 

“You're not good at this,” RedEye huffed. 

“I got better rhythm when I'm on my back.”

“Yeah. Haha, yeah man! That's true,” RedEye laughed.

Brian, stretched on his tiptoes, leaned in to press a kiss onto the other man's lips, hoping to distract him. RedEye's response was sleepy and without any of his usual aggression.

“You're so weird,” Brian smiled. He rested his head on RedEye's shoulder, his smile turning into a smirk; he was thankful no one was around to see any of this. 

Apparently bored of dancing, RedEye wrapped both arms around Brian, cocooning him and resting his chin on the top of the shorter man's head. He patted his hands on Brian's back in a restless sort of way. He seemed agitated and impatient.

“I wrote you a song.”

“Really?” Brian wished he could move so he could look RedEye in the face, although, he thought, perhaps he had been held like this to prevent him doing that. 

“Yeah...gotta be the soppiest shit I've ever done.” RedEye's grip tightened on Brian as if he was incredibly self conscious about admitting such a thing. 

“I want to hear it.”

**

Brian lay on his belly, his arms crossed and his chin resting on them. Eyes closed, he looked as if he was contentedly snoozing but he was very much awake. The sound of music filled the bedroom, soft and unobtrusive as RedEye strummed his guitar along with the words he sang. While mostly his songs were brash and comical, he had a less abrasive side that was rarely, if ever, seen by others. Thousands of strings of words and chords that never became songs, and solely existed to declutter the musician’s head. But the words he sung then and there did form a song. A carefully crafted song for the purpose of channeling his feelings and for professing them in a way that with words alone would be too difficult to convey. 

Even when the song seemed to end, he continued noodling about on the guitar, as if dragging out the moment, reluctant for it to end and for him to have to face opinions and feedback. It was a sweet weakness, such an obvious display of nerves hidden beneath an attempt to look carefree. 

Brian's eyes flicked open and he watched in silence with a smile upon his face. He rested his head in his hand. “Is it harder to play for an audience of hundreds or an audience of one?”

“Definitely one.” RedEye stilled his fingers and looked up expectantly.

Brian had never seen him look so unsure of himself. Typically RedEye was full of confidence in his abilities that to see him looking genuinely worried was jarring. Brian pushed himself onto his hands and knees so he could crawl across the mattress to where the guitarist was sitting. He sat on his knees, taking RedEye's face between both hands and gently kissing him. 

“I love it.”

“Good,” RedEye nodded happily. “That one is just for you and me.” 

“So you’re not going to play it on the radio?” Brian asked, a little crestfallen.

“Ain’t really the kind of thing my audience wants to hear…”

He set his guitar to one side and beckoned for Brian to come into his arms. Brian settled himself against RedEye's chest, his head comfortably tucked beneath the larger man’s chin. RedEye pulled his guitar back over, continuing to pluck at it as if the presence of Brian between himself and the instrument was no inconvenience. 

Brian felt restless and agitated while he watched RedEye’s fingers pick at the guitar strings. He realised that not once had there been any kind of acknowledgement in public of their relationship, and that did not sit well with him. Brian wriggled and fidgeted until he heard an exasperated sigh huff from RedEye’s mouth.

“You’re makin’ it real hard to hit the right notes-”

“Why won’t you play my song on the radio?” Brian blurted out

“Because,” RedEye began hesitantly, speaking slowly as if he was taking great care to choose his words, “if anyone knew about you then they could hurt you to get at me.”

Brian blinked dumbly, surprise evident on his face. He had thought RedEye simply didn't want to be seen as weak and soft, or that he wasn't comfortable with his sexuality. 

“Why would anyone want to get at you?”

RedEye shrugged, “I don't know, why wouldn't they? This ain’t some little settlement, in case you ain’t noticed everyone out there is some kind of maniac. They’re raiders,  _ we’re _ raiders. You seem soft and weak then you’re gonna get killed.”

“So...you're hiding me to protect me? Don't you think I can protect myself?” Brian twisted himself and glared daggers at RedEye, “Did you forget who I am? I’m  _ Bloodmouth _ .”

“And I have seen you be beaten and ripped to shreds. I thought you were gonna die and I never wanna have to go through that again.” RedEye took a deep breath. “I love you so fuckin’ much, I don’t wanna see you get hurt. Can you deal with that?”

Begrudgingly Brian nodded that yes, he could deal with that. He still thought RedEye’s claim was nonsense however, and it left a sour taste in his mouth, yet he didn’t know enough about the society in Nuka World to challenge RedEye, who had been there longer. Narrowing his eyes he lapsed into thoughtful silence while he considered that RedEye was probably lying or at least avoiding the truth. He didn’t understand why loving someone should be hidden away. Brian had seen plenty of raiders around Nuka World who were obviously in relationships. Granted, it was an unconventional romance in most cases, but RedEye was definitely hiding something. 

“You think that threatening the doctor with death if she let me die is something someone who is just a friend would do?”

RedEye sighed in obvious frustration, resigned to the fact that Brian wouldn't give in.

“I’m not puttin’ a target on your head by singing about you on the radio, and that’s final. Shut up.”

Brian racked his brain trying to recall lyrics he had quizzed RedEye about so long ago when they had lain together smoking chems. He had asked who one of his songs was about and RedEye had laughed it off, refusing to give any details, claiming the song wasn't even about him. The more he talked the more obvious it became to Brian that the song was not about a friend and never had been.

“Your other song...you were in love once before,” Brian began cautiously.

“I guess you could call it that. That's old news and I don't wanna talk about it. It's not important.” RedEye heaved a huge sigh. “Listen, I didn't want to let someone into my life who could tear it all apart, and somehow I knew with you that the moment I gave in, you weren't gonna leave. Not like I could just fuck you and be done with it because, heh, well look at us. You can see how that worked out.”

Brian tilted his head, listening intently. 

“It worked out pretty well,” RedEye continued, smiling to himself rather than to Brian. “You ain't stole from me or got bored with me yet, you’re just a real pain in the ass. Now can we change the subject?”

Brian nodded after taking a moment to carefully digest the words. He felt it would be impossible to pry everything from RedEye in one go - it would take a long time for him to break down the walls his partner felt were necessary to hide behind, but he had been given things to think about.

“I wonder what happened to that deathclaw?” Brian mused, “After all that work we never got to eat it.”

RedEye laughed in a light, knowing chuckle that embraced the shift in tone and topic. “It ain’t gonna taste so good now, might not even look so good.”

“We should go out and see, it seems a shame. Maybe we could bring the claws back or something? Someone around here might be able to turn them into a cool weapon….or the horns. The horns would look good mounted on the wall.”

“Go look in your house of horrors when you get a chance, man. I dragged that thing there, but it’s got to have gone rotten now.”

Brian perked up. “You brought it back? You brought a whole deathclaw back...on your own?”

“I brought the head and the good hand. I mean I could have brought more but y’know, it was kinda messed up and not worth saving.”

“I totally want those bits, I--”

“Brian, I forbid you to eat that deathclaw. Even that dumb doctor ain’t got no cure for poisoning caused by being stupid.” 


	15. The Listener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes dat boi!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, whaddup?

The idiot radio DJ had been especially insufferable recently, his broadcasts seemed more chirpy and frequently interspersed with new material than ever before. 

An agitated sigh escaped the lips of the listener. He had first heard the name Bloodmouth on this station months ago and since then he had tuned in every day, gathering information in bits and pieces about the infamous raider and his whereabouts. He was somewhere in Nuka World, which filled the listener with annoyance - why couldn’t he have been part of some two bit raider gang? Nuka World was a well-fortified, sprawling complex with its own hierarchy and rules. He had long ago sent three of his men to investigate and they had never returned. An all-out attack was suicide, and he was a calculated person. He would bide his time and he would learn. Most importantly he would learn exactly what made Bloodmouth tick and how to make him suffer. He had not spent all this time hunting him just to put a bullet in his head.

He ran a hand over his face in exasperation as the DJ launched into the part of his disorganised show where he read out notes from anyone who was smart enough to be able to write one and hand it in. Most of the notes were garbage - threats based on petty disagreements, advertisements for strange goods and services that only a raider could find appealing, and irrelevant nonsense that somehow made it to the airwaves. However annoying they were, the notes were sometimes valuable in revealing information about Nuka World if someone listening was smart enough to be able to read between the lines. Over time he had pieced together a rough estimate of the society in Nuka World based on what RedEye said.

From the inside of his coat he pulled out a small, well-worn notebook and flipped through the pages. Tapping his pencil on the paper he waited for any new information, his eyes fixed on the people he shared his current living space with. He wouldn’t say they were a gang, not really. They were a rabble of people who had decided to follow him - strays and vagabonds with nowhere else to go and no-one else to fight for. No one but him. He kept himself distanced from them, but they still looked to him as a leader and someone they would swarm to defend.

The DJ -RedEye, he thought with a roll of his eyes at the ridiculous name- was noodling about on his guitar without contributing anything worthwhile. His mind seemed elsewhere as if he had forgotten he was on air. Idly the listener doodled a crude depiction of his interpretation of the DJ being torn apart by radwolves. 

“Ah, this next one is for someone special--”

The listener once again rolled his eyes and a low groan rumbled from his throat. When RedEye stopped dawdling and extending the opening of the song it was revealed to be new material. 

_ Why can’t you just tune that damn guitar properly? _ , the listener thought spitefully, wincing slightly as the opening dragged on.  _ When we meet, I’m going to choke you with your own guitar strings— _

He sat up abruptly when RedEye started singing, his writing hand moving swiftly to jot down the lyrics. RedEye, he realised, had a habit of singing about what was happening in his life and in doing so had a tendency to unintentionally give away the biggest clues. He was not the smartest songwriter and to someone such as the listener he might as well have been reading out his private journal entries.

A low chuckle of realisation began in the back of his throat as the song continued. His hand scribbled down the words with ghoulish delight while his grin spread wider and wider. When the song came to a conclusion, he finished his writing with a flourish and stared at the page. Who would have thought that the man he was hunting had conveniently wormed his way into the affections of the man with a voice that shared everything across the airwave. It was almost too easy, too perfect. He couldn’t have asked for a better roll of the dice to set things in his favour.

“Love makes you do  _ stupid  _ things,” he tutted while going over his notes, double and triple checking them, his dark eyes hunting for further clues.

“Thanks, Red,” he sneered.

 


	16. The Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuka World gets a new overboss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deliberately left the identity of the new overboss ambiguous, mainly because there are so many overboss OCs that I love a lot! So it could be any of them.

“You played my song.”

RedEye glanced up in Brian’s direction before flicking a switch that turned his microphone off - he wished Brian would learn to pay attention to the glowing sign that marked when he was on air. His eyes darted back and forth to the screens showing the gauntlet, but nothing exciting seemed to be happening at that moment so he figured he could spare a few minutes. “Yeah, uh...that okay?” 

“Yes! I was  just surprised. I thought you were never going to share it?”

“Changed my mind. Felt I owed you. I'm putting my heart out there. Now everyone knows...well not about you, but they know there's someone.” RedEye leaned back in his chair and fixed Brian with an arrogant grin, “I mean if they’re smart they might know, but my lyrics are real clever. Ain’t nobody gonna figure them out who I don’t want to.”

Brian ran a hand over his face. “Thank you.”

“Don't you cry on me,” RedEye warned. “You wanna watch this worthless wastelander get torn to bits?” His mouth curled into a smile and he beckoned Brian closer, pleased when the little raider came to him and after a moment’s hesitation, settled on his lap.

“What’s happening?” asked Brian, his eyes lazily straying to the array of screens showing Nuka World’s deathtrap from all angles.

Truthfully, Brian thought that the gauntlet had lost a lot of its mystery and he had become less interested after so many free viewings from the best seat in the house, but he did enjoy seeing whoever had stumbled into it meet a creative demise. He hoped that whoever was in there wasn’t going to be pathetic enough to die from something boring like a turret.

RedEye tapped on one of the monitors. “This shitbag has somehow survived most of the show-” his finger trailed a dusty line from one screen to the other to detail the path the victim would have to follow. “Let’s see how they enjoy audience participation!”

Pulling his mic closer, RedEye flicked the switch that broadcast his voice across the deathtrap and began a mocking spiel. The latest victim was doing alarmingly well, driven by a will to survive that shamed all the other participants. Other victims had gotten this far in the past but they were few and far between so RedEye's narration became more animated and sadistic as the victim dodged bullets fired by an audience of raiders. 

“This vic is almost through! Or so they think…” RedEye cackled maniacally into the mic, his eyes wild at the promise of bloodshed. His shoulders slumped in disappointment when the wastelander slipped out of sight and disappeared momentarily before showing up on the next screen. 

Brian raised his eyebrows. “All they gotta do is fight Colter-”

“Yeah and you know how that goes. He che-” RedEye paused and quickly turned his mic off before continuing. “He cheats and wins like he does every time, man I dunno if that shit is even fun anymore? I guess if they put up a good fight and it ain’t like ‘ _ one punch and this vic is down! _ ’”

“Your gauntlet voice is so hot,” Brian blurted out.

RedEye raised his eyebrows in surprise for a second but swiftly pulled Brian closer. “Let's see what the gauntlet has in store for you, vic,” he growled into his ear. He was delighted when Brian quivered with excitement, fingers curling and clutching at the skin of his chest.

“Fuck, don't do that,” Brian gasped. “Not unless you're gonna follow through.”

A dirty laugh rumbled from RedEye’s throat. “Who says I ain’t gonna? I- aw  _ come on _ .” 

A movement on the screen centered on the Cola Cars arena showed that their overboss had entered the ring. Dressed in intimidating custom power armour, he prowled back and forth taunting the survivor of the gauntlet. RedEye grumbled in frustration at the interruption and pulled his mic back over.

“I’ll deal with you later,” RedEye warned Brian before turning the broadcast back on air.

As they watched, the wastelander stepped into the arena. The odds were good that Colter would win as he always did, but something about the way this latest victim walked exuded an air of confidence...or perhaps quiet acceptance of their fate. A new kind of tension hung in the air, reaching as far as the security office, and it seemed to linger as if everything was momentarily frozen in time. 

Then there was an explosion of activity and movement. The wastelander, unencumbered by heavy armour, was fast and able to run circles around Colter. RedEye squinted at the screen, his commentary hindered by the fact that he could barely make out what was going on. Something was clutched in the hand of the wastelander, some kind of gun.

“What the hell? Is that a water gun?” RedEye asked incredulously, his voice trailing into cruel laughter.

A shock of electricity lit up the screen in a flare of white and when the image cleared, Colter was standing motionless. 

“Shit, did that short out his armour?” Brian muttered, his eyes like saucers at the clever attack.

“Ha!” RedEye hooted with laughter, “can you say technical difficulties?” 

With mawkish delight, both raiders watched as the wastelander swapped out the innocent little water pistol for an actual weapon. His defenses were gone, his ability to move was gone, and Colter was left completely helpless and only dependant on what little defence his unpowered armour could offer. The audience was hollering and baying for blood, and they were granted it but not in the style they were accustomed to. Before their eyes their leader fell, nothing but a crumpled pile of metal and gore.

RedEye stared at the screen with his mouth hanging limply open. He had never in a million years expected anyone to beat their overboss, not when the game had always been rigged, but the evidence was right on screen in front of him. He glanced at Brian who helplessly stared back at him.

“Holy shit! I don't... I don't even know what this means! Colter, man, he's out!” RedEye spluttered, practically tripping over his words. “Gage!” he addressed the overboss’ lackey and right hand man, “what the hell just happened?”

“You saw it, we all saw it,” Gage responded, head tilted slightly in the direction of the speaker system.

RedEye shook his head, acknowledging the words but feeling very unsure of himself. He pushed his mic away and leaned back, his face a picture of confusion.

“What the fuck happens now?” asked Brian.

“I don’t know. Man, we all thought Colter...he was unstoppable.” RedEye nibbled his thumbnail, “I mean he was kind of a chump, but he was unstoppable. Shit. This place is gonna fall into chaos. I hope Gage has a plan...”

Both Brian and RedEye looked up at the screen to watch the victor of the fight following Gage away from the arena and out of sight. There seemed to be no animosity or aggression between them, in fact they seemed to be deeply engaged in conversation.

“I think he’s cooking something up,” Brian suggested. “I don’t know, something feels strange about all of this. What do you think?”

“I think-” RedEye’s voice slipped into a low growl, “we should find out what the gauntlet has in store for you, vic...”


	17. Cappy's Cafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The raiders of Nuka World celebrate their new overboss. Brian gets jealous and acts like an idiot.

The overboss was dead, and that meant only one thing to the denizens of Nuka World: a party was in order. Things had turned wild shortly after Colter’s death, and the alcohol and chems had run free. Even the shock news that the wastelander responsible for defeating Colter was to be crowned the new overboss did not dampen any highs: the raiders simply took that as another excuse for celebration. Their respective gang leaders could deal with any problems that arose from their new leader.

As the night wore on, the celebrations did not wane although the cool night air and darkness of the park drove many indoors to the warmth of fire barrels and low-watt bulbs powered by humming, stinking generators.

As far as wasteland bars went, Cappy’s Café was amongst the worst, with dim lighting, blood smeared on the walls and floor, and occasional body parts piled in dark corners. Cautiously Brian stepped over a dark pool on the tiled floor as he made his way to the bar. Although his gun was at home, he felt comfort knowing he had his hunting knife tucked into his boot. A syringe full of psycho sizzled through his veins, the high only slightly dampened by countless bottles of Nuka Dark, but his eerie blue, sharp eyes keenly sized up the other patrons as he would view the prey he hunted. 

“Fuck, this place always reeks,” Brian complained to RedEye who followed behind him, greeting those who nodded in recognition. 

When no response came from RedEye, Brian decided to leave him to it - he would wait at the bar where he settled on a grimy stool. Impatiently he watched RedEye jovially recalling to a table of drunken raiders, the moment Colter had met his death in the arena. Brian ordered two bottles of beer and drummed his fingers on the bar while he waited for them. By the time RedEye joined him a bottle of beer awaited him.

“Done with your fans?” Brian asked.

RedEye responded with a laugh - he sounded pleased with himself, his ego stroked. “They all want a piece of me,” he smirked before breaking off to greet the barmaid to whom he was very familiar. 

Brian passed the time by listening to the radio as old recordings crackled away. He felt restless and agitated, no doubt a result of the chems which buzzed through his body and made him feel as if he had swallowed a nest of stingwings. He ought to have taken RedEye’s offer of Jet -his personal chem of choice- but Brian liked Psycho, especially when it was readily available and cheap.

“It's weird that you're here and your voice is coming from there,” Brian observed with his eyes fixed on the radio. An attempt at normal conversation.

RedEye was paying no attention, busy with two young looking raiders who had approached him. Brain felt a stab of jealousy and anger. He glared at the youngsters with venom, hoping they'd take the hint and go away. He ground his teeth and suddenly became very fixated on ripping the label from his bottle, shredding it into scraps on the bar’s surface.

Eventually RedEye turned back to Brian, looking very pleased with himself. He caught the animosity in Brian's eyes and narrowed his own. “Relax,” he warned quietly. 

“I will when these kids leave you alone,” Brian hissed. He took a long gulp of his beer, his shoulders hunched and tense, although he was pleased to have RedEye’s attention back. 

RedEye looked unfazed. He casually took a mouthful of beer and bobbed his head along to the sound of his own voice on the radio. As if he was adjusting the signal, he leaned across Brian, fingers reaching for the radio dials. “Don't make me fuck that attitude out of you,” he threatened, only loud enough for Brian's ears.

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a threat,” RedEye answered.

The “threat” made Brian brighten considerably, his eyes glittering in excitement. No sooner than he had opened his mouth to voice a comeback, the young raiders had once again sidled over and were demanding the attention of Nuka World’s sole radio host. Brian gritted his teeth, his patience was wearing thin and his fingers tightened around the neck of his bottle. 

Piercingly Brian glared at the youngsters, willing them to go away on their own, but each second that passed he became more tightly coiled in his anger and annoyance. When one of the raiders laughed a little too loudly, a little too falsely, her hand touching RedEye's arm, Brian had taken about as much as he could stand. He didn't even realise what he was doing until a shrill scream rang through the bar and he glanced down to see a shattered bottle in his hand. The female raider was clutching her face, covered in something Brian guessed was blood and not beer. Her companion quickly retaliated but Brian was older and more experienced, and definitely able to avoid the blow that swung in his direction. 

Armed with only a broken bottle, Brian lunged for the young raider and the pair of them crashed to the floor, sending bar stools clattering over. Glasses and bottles crashed to the floor, shattering to add a sea of broken glass and alcohol to the mess.

Brian snapped his teeth; if his victim would stop wriggling then he would be able to sink his teeth in and put a stop to this whole thing. He jabbed the broken bottle into anything he could reach, his attack knocked about by flailing limbs. An arm swung up to push him away, aiming for his face, so Brian seized the opportunity and clamped his teeth around it. The screams were sweet to his ears but to his surprise he felt a firm tug on the back of his coat that pulled him away, yanking him backwards with a spluttering snarl.

Immediately Brian found himself staring right into RedEye's face, and he looked furious. Momentarily, Brian was startled and frozen - his behaviour had never been actively punished or stopped before. 

“What the hell are you doing?” RedEye hissed. With barely a glance at the injured raiders on the floor, he slid off his stool and began dragging Brian forcibly out of the bar. 

“Hey, RedEye, keep your fucking dog on a leash,” a voice called out. 

“You!” Brian spluttered and hissed upon recognising the voice of Needles - the raider responsible for knocking his tooth out. “You’re next, bitch! I’ll knock  _ your  _ teeth out!” Furiously he struggled against RedEye's grasp, but to his dismay all he achieved was a firmer grip and the mocking laughter of the chem-addled raider. 

“C’mon RedEye, let ‘im go! What you care if he gets fucked up?” Needles rose to her feet, ready for a fight, her keen eyes watching every nuance of movement.

Brian twisted and wriggled but he was unable to break free. His containment only added to his rage so his stubby nails scratched and clawed at RedEye’s skin while his eyes remained focused on Needles with the single-minded fury that only came with Psycho. He was vaguely aware of RedEye telling Needles to fuck off but he was far more concerned with the arm holding him in a headlock - he couldn’t even twist around far enough to bite.

“Aw, I get it,” Needles started in a singsong voice, “you don’t want your little boyfriend to get hurt, right? Ain’t that cute!”

“He ain’t my-” RedEye sharply inhaled and glared at Needles, “You’re talking shit. Shut up. Man, I’m doing you all a favour by getting Bloodmouth outta here. No need to thank me or nothin’.”

“Sure thing RedEye!” Needles cackled, “hey, can I be one of them bridesmaids at ya weddin’? Always thought I’d look nice in a dress-”

Brian heard no more as he found himself dragged out of the bar into the cold night, Needles’ words and laughter ringing in his ears along with his own racing pulse. RedEye didn't let go of him until they were almost home, and even then he was roughly shoved away. 

“What is wrong with you?” RedEye growled.

“They deserved it,” Brian snorted. “I didn't kill anyone. You’re just upset that I interrupted them jerking off your ego-”

“Man, you’re too damn high. Get inside right now and calm the hell down.”

As if he were throwing an unruly dog into a kennel, RedEye cast Brian through the entrance to the radio station, following after him and slamming the door loudly. 

“Get out of the way,” RedEye instructed once the door had banged shut behind him. Brian was taking up the small space at the base of the stairs rather than going up them.

“Why are you being such an asshole?” Brian hissed. He made no effort to move and was affronted when RedEye shoved him, causing him to stagger against the stairs. “I’ll bite you too,” Brian warned.

“Whatever. Get your ass up those stairs before I kick you out onto the street.”

Brian stood his ground, but his lips were pulled back and he snapped his bloody teeth. In a sudden flurry of movement, he dodged RedEye’s hand as it reached out to grab him, and swiftly he scaled the stairs, pausing halfway up he turned and stamped his feet. Somewhere in the back of his mind the voice of reason told him he shouldn’t taunt RedEye who was becoming increasingly angry with him, but that voice was drowned by the all too familiar and far louder voices that told him to fight.

RedEye bolted up the stairs two at a time, his fingers snatching Brian by the fabric of his coat. He yanked and Brian staggered, his balance lost, he reached out to grab at the handrail. Precariously they wobbled before Brian gained a firmer grip and managed to steady himself. He struggled to get free but felt RedEye’s other arm wrap around his waist. Thrashing his arms and legs, Brian was enraged when he was picked up and roughly carried up the stairs.

With an undignified thump, Brian was dropped and he immediately scrambled to his feet. In a knee-jerk reaction, he lunged at RedEye.

“No you don’t,” RedEye snapped. He smartly sidestepped the attack and drew his fist back, slamming it hard into Brian’s jaw.

Brian cried out and then there was a sudden, uncomfortable silence. Neither man moved, both seemed frozen in shock until Brian slowly rose his hand to his face. Fingertips brushed the throbbing place of impact and he flinched. When he rose his eyes to look at RedEye, they were full of mistrust and shock. 

“Bri-” RedEye began.

Instantly Brian scuttled to his feet. He cast a disgusted glance at RedEye before storming off down one of the dark corridors of the radio building.


	18. Truths

Brian always felt as if some outside force had blessed him with more luck than one man deserved. No matter what happened to him, he always bounced back; he had been in more fights than he could count and he had always come away from them intact. However he couldn’t fight the ache in his heart. The sting in his eyes from salty tears that he refused to allow to fall. His chest felt stretched tight, ready to rip at the seam. Brian tightened his fingers around arms that he had crossed at the chest. He drew his legs up to his body so he made a small ball, hidden away in the darkness. 

For days he had decided to hide himself away while the chems drained from his system and his high was replaced by a pressing sense of sadness that wouldn’t budge. He hoped nobody would ever find him but he hadn't counted on the sheer stubbornness of the one man he was trying to avoid. Footsteps betrayed his arrival, and Brian wished he had his gun for he would at that moment been more than happy to fire a few rounds into the owner of those feet.

“Can't you just leave me the fuck alone?” Brian snapped into the darkness. His voice sounded cracked and weak and he hated himself for it.

“Bri, come on.”

Brian was pleased in a sad sort of way that the voice sounded worried, but he was not prepared to get up like some kind of obedient lapdog. 

“I said leave me alone,” Brian snarled, his eyes furiously scanned the darkness in an attempt to locate RedEye. “Where the fuck are you? I can't even see where to look when I'm talking.”

A resigned sigh came from directly in front of Brian so he whirled his head to glare in its direction. Fingertips brushed his knee and he sharply jerked away. 

“Don't fucking touch me.”

From the darkness came the sound of fabric sliding against concrete, followed by a soft thump. Brian realised to his utter rage that RedEye had sat down opposite him rather than taking the good advice to go away.

“What the fuck do you want?” Brian demanded. He was disgusted by how weak his voice came out, betraying the sadness that was barely masked by anger. 

“I’ve been looking for you. You ran off. Man, come out of the dark-”

“You punched me!” Brian countered, his voice raising in anger. 

Viciously Brian pushed himself to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he chose to storm off, his stupid and wretched heeled boots clearly marking the direction he was headed. Once he found himself in the familiar corridor with its lights at regular intervals, he turned to stare behind him. He had never been sure of anything more than that RedEye would follow him, so he decided to wait to see if he was right. 

Sure enough the familiar, weary footsteps approached. Brian opened his mouth to speak, to say something that would make the other man hurt as he himself hurt, but he was cut off. RedEye lunged out from the darkness, snatching Brian by the wrist and twisting his arm painfully to stop him running off. Brian thrashed his free arm and legs, attempting to shove RedEye off him but he knew it was futile. RedEye had always been stronger, didn’t he already know that? The throbbing pain in his face was testament to that fact.

“Let me go! I'll bite your fucking face off,” Brian shrieked. His free arm was easily caught and held down, his body shoved roughly against the bare concrete wall. 

“Brian,  _ stop it _ . Calm down already.”

“Don't you dare tell me to calm down.” Brian dragged a breath deep into his lungs before continuing. “I’m so sick of your fucking bullshit lies and acting! Why can’t you let anyone know about us? Why is it some fucking secret that you get so worried about that you punch me in the face? ”

RedEye looked as if he had been slapped, his fingers loosened slightly and his face betrayed nothing but complete surprise. 

“You think I’m angry because you hit me?” Brian continued as the words he had gone over in his head countless times cascaded from his mouth - not in the eloquent way he had imagined, but in a tangle of emotion and the after-effects of chems. “I am, but I’m more angry that you hide this...this thing we have. I don’t even know what to call that now because I don’t think we’re on the same page. You’re meant to love me!” 

Brian, shaking with anger, his eyes glistening, glared up at RedEye who had the sheer-faced  _ audacity _ to look confused of all things. Brian clenched his jaw since he was sure everything he had said had made perfect sense, and it was hardly his fault if his idiot partner didn’t know everything he had been stewing over in the darkness. 

“I do-”

“Yeah? I find that fucking hard to believe right now.” Brian dragged a furious breath in through his nose, “in fact, I don’t know what to believe that comes out of your mouth. You lie to everyone, what makes me so special?”

RedEye uncurled his fingers and stepped backwards. Brian, freed, stared expectantly at him. He wasn’t sure what he wanted - an apology perhaps, or just to cause hurt until he felt RedEye had been sufficiently punished. He petulantly folded his arms and waited.

“The hell do you want, Bri? You’re being crazy-” RedEye thought he would have to make sure Brian kept well away from Psycho in future, but he kept this to himself. “-You think I’d come hunt you down if I didn’t give a shit?”

Brian digested the words but only responded with a silent narrowing of his eyes and pursing of his lips. How easily lies spilled from the tongue of the radio host, and Brian was on shaky ground, his anger, much as he tried to cling to it, began to trickle away to be replaced by a heavy sadness. Maybe he wasn’t as special as he had thought. Maybe he was a source of entertainment - a novelty and someone to pass time with, but nothing more. He was barely listening to RedEye who had continued talking, his voice little more than white noise to Brian who suddenly was hit by the urge to be alone to sort out his tangled thoughts. In a heavy daze of sadness, Brian shoved past RedEye and stalked off. He did not hear any footsteps following him.

-

His body was racked with sobs, his throat constricted so he could barely breathe. He didn't care. Curled in a ball on his bed -on their bed- he had finally succumbed to his sadness, unable to mask it beneath anger and bitterness any longer. More than anything he regretted the chems. The psycho had tangled his thoughts, made everything seem exaggerated and the comedown was terrible.

For the first time since he had awoken to the barren post-apocalyptic world, Brian found himself desperately wishing for Soren. Soren had never hurt him like this. Soren had always been perfect and they had been so happy.

“What am I doing?” Brian questioned himself, his voice thick with anguish. 

He was struck by a sudden revelation that he had always just been replacing Soren. The guitar was the closest thing to Soren’s beloved bass. Fuck, they even looked alike. Hadn't he more than once closed his eyes and imagined RedEye was Soren? Brian despised himself for it. He was furious at RedEye for what? Lying? Not announcing their relationship to the world? Yet here he was, intentionally living a lie crazier than anything the radio host could concoct. 

The bedroom door creaked open. Brian had to give him credit: he didn’t give up, and that he supposed meant something. He rolled over, wiping his eyes aggressively as if it would do any good in disguising the fact that he had been crying.

“Come here…” Brian began, not knowing how he was going to approach this. What he would say. If he would even find the nerve to tell the truth or if he would just let the anger that bubbled away burst free again. Whatever the case, he knew he couldn’t continue lying and hiding his past and there was no time like the present to lay everything out.

“I...we have to talk.  _ I _ have to talk.”

Brian took a deep breath before he began speaking. He found the words that he had repressed so long spilled from his mouth as if the floodgates had broken. How he had been in love, he had been engaged, his life had been torn apart. The more he talked, he became aware that he wasn't even telling this story, he was exorcising a demon that had haunted him all these years. When he had finished with everything he wanted to say, he folded his hands in his lap, feeling as if a weight had been lifted but instantly replaced by the thick, suffocating silence that came from RedEye.

“I had to tell you,” Brian continued, aware that now he was just filling the silence. 

RedEye’s brows furrowed in confusion, and when he spoke his words were spoken slowly as if he was having trouble getting his head around what he was saying. “You’re telling me that you were alive two hundred years ago?”

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “I get that that’s probably the weirdest shit I’ve ever said but I had to tell you. It’s been eating at me since we met, but I’m sick of lying. I’m sick of all the lying - we’re meant to be a team, we shouldn’t be at each other’s throats.” Brian rolled his eyes to fixedly stare at the ceiling, “God, I was so angry at you for not being honest. I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite.”

“Bri, c’mon, I love you but that's not what raiders do. Look around you, none of us are gentle and soft. You seem that way then you're gonna get killed. That crazy broad, Pins? No, wait, Needles. She’s got it in for you. I ain’t gonna let your dumb high ass go fighting everyone you see. Ain’t no trader with a shotgun always gonna be there to save you so sometimes I gotta do it.”

Brian digested the words, considering them carefully. He liked his lifestyle as a raider but it was easy to forget what a brutal society he had chosen to join. 

“You're from a different world,” RedEye continued, he knew he was going to have to talk in depth about that but it could wait. “I ain’t never going to understand where you’re from, but I know that I would kill everyone in this goddamn park to keep you here with me-”

Brian’s lips quirked into a tiny smile, “do you mean to have me by your side? That’s the lyrics.”

Although briefly taken aback, RedEye returned the smile with an amused huff, and for a moment they peacefully considered one another, the tension elevated even if just for a short time.

Brian eventually leaned over, taking RedEye's face in his hands and looking searchingly in his eyes. “I believe you,” he tentatively began.

“Can I make it up to you?”

Brian bit his lip. He knew what was being implied and he was torn. “Do you think you can make everything right by fucking me?” 

“Nope.”

“Oh.” The wind was well and truly taken out of Brian's sails, he had certainly not expected that answer. 

RedEye arched his head out of Brian's grasp and lay on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He took a deep breath. “Yeah sure, I ain't gonna lie, that's what I do: I fuck you, but I realised it's more than that. It's not just about me with you. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that with other people I never cared. I don't give two shits how it is for them, but with you, shit, I just love you and I never felt that way before.”

Brian felt himself weakening and even though the voice in his head was screaming at him not to give in so easily, he lay down by RedEye's side. He could feel the heat radiating from the other’s body but he made a point of not touching him. 

“What would it take for me to make things right?” 

Brian could tell RedEye was struggling not to touch him, his body language awkward and uncomfortable, like he was trying to break a bad habit. Brian himself bit back the urge to press himself against the familiar chest and feel the comfort of arms around him. 

Brian sighed. “I get it, I do. Keeping up appearances. But it hurts feeling like, I don’t know, like you’re embarrassed of me. Like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Brian, you’re more than enough for me.” RedEye tentatively made the first move, sliding a careful arm around Brian's waist. 

Brian instantly melted, shuffling forward to close the small gap between them. He felt his face flush as the arm around him tightened. 

“Can I kiss you or you gonna bite me?”

Something about having been asked permission caused Brian’s heart to jump, and he nodded his consent. He felt his hair brushed back off his face with rough, callused fingertips that softly trailed down his sideburns all the way to his chin. Tenderly RedEye tilted Brian's head back before bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss. He moved as if he had all the time in the world to savour the feel and taste of his partner, exploring him as if it was their first kiss. The first kiss they ought to have shared had that not taken place in a haze of chems.

No words were spoken as RedEye rolled Brian onto his back. Brian allowed it, sliding his hands to stroke over RedEye's bare arms, his fingers tracing the shape of the muscles that shifted beneath his skin. Brian tilted his head back as soft kisses peppered the skin of his neck. A familiar tongue flicked over his Adam's apple, moving down to the dip in his collarbone but always returning to his lips like an addict to his chem stash. Softly RedEye tilted Brian’s head to one side so he could place his lips upon the sore, red mark on Brian’s jaw that his very knuckles had caused. 

“Russell,” RedEye muttered as his lips worked across Brian’s jawline. 

Brian froze, adrenaline spiking in his throat and chest at the sudden outburst. He arched his head away and looked up at RedEye with fear and horror. “Who’s Russell?” he choked out. Of all the things that could happen, RedEye mistakenly calling him the name of a former lover was crushing and more than he could take.

“Me. That’s my name.”

“Wha-”

RedEye tilted his head and his lips curled into a smile. “I figured that I should tell you something that I ain’t never told nobody, y’know because I trust you and man, I don’t want no secrets between us. I love you.”

“Russell,” Brian smiled in relief. 

“Don’t go around calling me that, like this is our secret ok? I don’t want all of Nuka World knowin’ me as nothing other than RedEye.”

Pleased with his new knowledge and even more pleased with the level of trust RedEye was placing in him, Brian pressed himself close. “Well, Russell, I love you too.”

“Do you forgive me though?”

Softly Brian cradled RedEye’s head in his hands and placed a gentle kiss upon his lips before answering. “Yes,” he nodded.

RedEye’s brow creased and rather than taking things any further, he rolled off Brian and pursed his lips. 

“What’s wrong?” Brian asked.

“I gotta be honest with you, kissing someone from before the war is weird. How are you still so perfect?” RedEye reached out a finger to stroke over Brian’s skin as if confirming to himself that he was in fact real. “I wanna fuck you but man, if I ain’t got a shit load of questions that need answering.”

Brian huffed, “ask away.” He supposed if the boot had been on the other foot, he too would have been preoccupied with the outrageous story being presented.

“That guy...Soren? How did he die?” 

Brian swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Yeah, Soren...he died when the bombs fell.”

“But you lived? How come you weren't together?”

Brian squeezed his eyes shut. He knew RedEye was just curious but the question felt scaldingly painful. 

“Because I left him to die.” Brian opened his eyes, and as expected he was met with a look of shock. “I was scared and I just...fuck, I figured that things wouldn't be this bad. So while I went and locked myself away underground in a vault, Soren...I don't know what happened to him but no one could survive what happened to New York. I should have gone to him. Fuck, we should have died together but I was too selfish and stupid.” Aggressively Brian ran his hands over his face as if he was trying to rub the memories off. 

“I'm glad you didn't die.”

“Huh?”

“I get it, you obviously loved that guy a lot but if you'd died with him then I'd never have met you.”

“Yeah…” Brian shuffled closer and pressed his face against RedEye's chest. Arms comfortingly wrapped around him. “Don't ever think you're a replacement,” Brian muttered. “If it ever comes to it, I won't leave you to die.”


	19. Kidnap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry.

From the shadowy entrance to the radio station RedEye emerged. The air of the night was cool and crisp, and the dark alleyway was quiet. Nearby a mesh drum full of trash burned, sending flickering shadows stretching high on the walls. Around his ankles wound Brian’s cat, having just returned for the night from whatever adventure she had been on. RedEye shooed her away, nudging the scrawny animal with the toe of his boot.

RedEye leaned over, used the fire in the barrel to light a cigarette. Silently he drew on it, exhaling a lungful of smoke while deep in thought. His life had changed, he realised. The latest revelation from Brian that he was over two hundred years old and had lived before the war was difficult to swallow but he supposed he could somehow come to terms with it since there were plenty of ghouls that had shared the same experience and he had never been rattled by them.

RedEye paused and flicked the ash of his cigarette away. What had that guy been called? Soren? He frowned and leaned against the cool brick wall. The thought that Brian, who he had let into his life and had grown so close to, had lived before caused him to feel slightly uncomfortable. 

Lost in his thoughts, RedEye took some time to notice he was not alone. From the end of the alley where a workbench and some rusty old shelves stood, a pair of eyes were watching him. He immediately recognised the girl called Needles from Cappy’s, and he tensed slightly. RedEye nodded in her direction to let her know she had been spotted and she didn’t hesitate to approach, only coming to a standstill when she was almost uncomfortably close.

“Hey, RedEye,” she greeted. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Smoking.”

“Why you hiding down an alleyway? Afraid your momma gonna catch you?”

RedEye huffed in amusement but left the question unanswered, reluctant to reveal the whereabouts of his home in case she didn’t already know. “What are  _ you _ doing here? You want an autograph?”

Needles laughed and ignored his questions. “You got a smoke?”

After a moment's hesitation, RedEye passed his already lit cigarette to Needles. He watched as she inhaled deeply on it.

“So,” Needles began through a cloud of smoke, “did ya put down that rabid dog of yours? I don’t see him nowhere.”

“I dealt with him.”

Needles drummed her fingers and looked RedEye over. “Whatcha doing hanging out with a guy like that anyway?”

Suspiciously, RedEye narrowed his eyes. Needles’ questioning was making him uneasy, but he could see no escape from their conversation that didn’t involve her discovering the location of his home, although chances were she already knew. It seemed an awful coincidence that she just happened to be in the same alley his door opened out onto. In an attempt to disguise his discomfort RedEye lit a second cigarette, assuming correctly that Needles wasn’t about to return the one she had taken.

“I mean I ain’t judging but you keep some shitty company if that’s the case. Bloodmouth ain’t nobody you should be fucking with.”

“Yeah?” RedEye was interested in the reasons for her dislike, and so he leaned back against the wall and waited for the other raider to continue.

Needles raised her eyebrows. RedEye’s stunted responses were unexpected, especially considering how talkative he was on the radio. She stepped forward. 

“Forget Bloodmouth. You’re a handsome fella, dunno what you’re doin’ hidin’ behind the radio all day.”

Despite himself, RedEye was flattered and he found his mouth twisting into an appreciative grin. He flicked away his cigarette and folded his arms loosely. “Yeah, but what would Nuka World do without their main man, RedEye to tell them what’s going on?” 

Needles pressed closer until RedEye could feel her body heat. Could smell the nicotine and sweet, sugary tang of alcohol-laced cola on her breath. He should shove her away and head back upstairs, but another part of him weighed his feet down and made him reluctant to move. 

Needles laughed breathily. “Yeah what would we do without ya?”

Her arms rose to loop around RedEye’s neck, and before he had a chance to respond she pulled with more strength than expected. A muffled sound of surprise came from RedEye as he was tugged into a kiss, but to his own disgust he didn’t push her away. He was completely taken off guard when a sharp pain stabbed into his neck, a long needle piercing through skin and muscle and then a spreading coolness. In a panic he shoved Needles away, wild eyed all of a sudden he rose a hand to his neck.

“The hell did you jab me with?”

His vision swayed, lurching in and out of focus. Needles wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before taking a step back to watch.

“What’d you jab me with?” RedEye repeated. His voice sounded a million miles away, like a recording played in another room. He rose a hand to reach out and swipe at Needles, but he couldn’t focus. Everything was blurred and slower than it should be. Foolishly he took a step, lurching forward and immediately discovering he had no control over the lower half of his body. He crashed to the floor, eyes wildly flitting back and forth, desperately searching for some kind of solution or someone to help him. Too late he thought to call out for help, and when he tried he discovered his throat was frozen - his vocal chords paralysed so only a choking sound creaked from his mouth.

Needles crouched down by RedEye’s side, her head tilted slightly. Softly she stroked her hand over his head, making shushing noises as if he were a squalling infant. 

“Night night!”

\--

Hours had passed since RedEye had gone outside to smoke, and Brian had lapsed into sleep. When he woke he was surprised to find he was alone, although it wasn’t unusual, he had the sinking feeling that it had been a long time since RedEye had been with him. 

Brian rolled out of bed and shuffled out of the bedroom. He could tell by the light that it was daytime, so RedEye was probably in his studio. Swinging his arms lazily by his sides, Brian strolled down the long corridor to the radio room. The door was ajar and the usual flickering ‘on air’ light was off. Brian poked his head through the door to find that the studio was empty.

“Hello?” Brian called out. He turned around and repeated his question, louder, in the opposite direction. There was only silence. Brian sighed in frustration, even his cat seemed to have abandoned him since she too was nowhere to be seen.

RedEye was not in the security room, the bathroom, nor the kitchen. Brian even checked outside on the rooftop but all was still. A worrying sense of anxiety began gnawing at him since although RedEye occasionally went off on his own, he usually left a note or mentioned his plans in advance.  

On any typical day Brian would have gone about his day without any worry but something seemed off. Something that caused him to trail down the stairs to the radio building’s entrance. He poked his head out, not entirely sure what he was expecting to find: maybe RedEye had locked himself out, maybe he had just gone out for some fresh air…

The alleyway was empty. 

“RedEye?” Brian called. He strained his ears, hoping to hear a reply but none came. Only the crackling of the ever-burning fire barrel by the door. Brian paced out into the alleyway so he could see clearly from one end to the other, but again everything was deserted. “RedEye!” Brian yelled, his voice hitching in a panic.

He turned to go back inside. He would have to get his gun and then go out to track RedEye down since this was increasingly worrying him. Brian froze when he was facing the door, his heart thumped and adrenaline surged through his veins with such sudden ferocity that no chem could match it.

“No!” 

His voice was raised to a shriek of anguish as he lunged forward with arms outstretched. Tears blurred Brian’s vision, his throat clenched tight. Nailed upon the door with a railway spike was a note, but Brian tore it away to reveal the horror beneath that had been partly hidden by the paper. Slowly, blood dripped from the mangled corpse of Brian’s cat, its skinny body swayed in a macabre fashion. 

“Bottlecap,” Brian wailed. “Who did this?”

Brian yanked away the railway spike, freeing the body of his pet. Uselessly he cradled the furry corpse in his arms as his sadness turned to anger. Beneath his foot the note lay discarded on the ground, so he stooped to pick it up.

_ Bloodmouth, you better come quick unless you want this to happen to your boyfriend. _

_ Saugus Ironworks. Come alone. Don’t waste time. _

The note was not signed, although a crude map was drawn on the back, guiding him to a location in The Commonwealth. Brian tucked the note into his pocket. He was unsure what to do with his cat, so he reverently laid the body inside an empty box. He would deal with it when he returned, but he would not allow RedEye to meet the same fate. Anyone who tried to hurt him would wish they had never been born.


	20. Needles' Map

Based on real life measurements, it should take approximately 34 hours to travel, on foot, from Nuka World to Saugus Ironworks. This is assuming you have a decent map to work from and aren't interrupted by the dangers of the wasteland. 


	21. Into The Fire

There was an eerie quiet about the ironworks when Brian approached. He had expected guards, spotlights, turrets...but everything was still; a plume of smoke rose from high above, showing that through some miracle the refinery still worked even after years of being left to the wastes. Brian had travelled far to get to the location marked on his map - the journey had taken him many days and nights that had blurred into one, but now he was there and he was ready for whatever lurked inside. 

Carefully Brian slid his backpack off his shoulders and hid it among some bushes so he wouldn’t be hindered when he went inside. Brian wasn’t so stupid not to recognise a trap when he saw one, and so his grip tightened around his gauss rifle, his trigger finger poised ready. Cautiously he crept closer to the entrance, eyes darting back and forth - there was no way he wasn’t being watched. Whoever had RedEye obviously wanted him here and they most likely weren’t about to be caught off guard.

The heavy entrance doors swung open with ease, although their creaking and groaning rung out through the building as clearly as any alarm. Brian slipped through, readying himself for an attack, but still the eerie silence prevailed. He took a moment to look about - no lights shone inside the refinery, but a gloomy glow was cast from countless smelters full of molten metal. The heat was sweltering, and Brian kept as far as possible from it, keeping his movements to the slightly cooler and more disguised shadows. Now he was inside, creeping into the heart of the refinery, the only sound that reached his ears was the bubbling and hissing from machinery and liquid metal.

“Brian Sinclair!”

Brian jumped in shock, adrenaline jolting through his body to be quickly replaced by a sense of discomfort that rose from his gut, settling in his throat. Although raspy and damaged, he recognised that voice-

“I know you’re there, skulking around. Get out into the light so I can see you.”

Brian steeled himself. He swallowed his nerves. He took a deep breath. Like a rabbit emerging from its warren, knowing the fox was out there somewhere, he took his first cautious steps into the concourse of the refinery. Whatever was happening, it had to be a trick of some sort. His fingers trembled around his gun as he walked.

“Finally.”

Brian’s head snapped up to look above him where the voice had come from. For a moment he hoped it was a speaker system, but a man -no, a  _ ghoul _ \- stood on a catwalk above him, leaning on the rail and staring down. A cold chill travelled the full length of Brian’s spine and he found he was frozen rigid, unable to move; fear weighing his feet down as effectively as concrete shoes. The ghoul staring down at him lacked any kind of friendliness, his large and sunken eyes glared unblinkingly at Brian, and Brian stared back into them with a searching desperation that this could not possibly be what he thought. Shakily Brian drew in a breath before speaking, although his single questioning word came out small and choked.

“Soren?”

The ghoul rose his hands from the rail to clap them together in a cruel, mocking affirmation. For the first time Brian was suddenly aware that they were not alone: in the shadows, lurking, were the shapes of many others with their guns trained on him. 

“You look just like you did the last time I saw you,” Soren began. Brian hoped the wistful tone in his voice was a positive thing. “The day you left me to die.”

“No!” Brian immediately protested, voice hitching in panic. “I was scared! I didn’t think all of this would happen! How could I know, Soren? How could I?”

“But you still ran away to lock yourself up underground, what was the slogan?  _ Vault Safe _ ? That’s exactly what you were. Do you know what happened to Manhattan, Brian? The apocalypse happened. Everything burned.  _ I _ burned. But you spent two hundred years sleeping like a baby.” Soren exhaled sharply in anger. “Imagine how I felt when I found out you had survived! Maybe I could forgive you...but no, some things only God can forgive.”

“Soren, I’m sorry!” wailed Brian, “I never meant for it to end like this!”

“My life has been destroyed and that’s the best you can do?!” 

With a series of booming footsteps, Soren clanged his way from the catwalk, down a flight of steel steps and onto the same floor upon which Brian stood. He did not speak until he was within touching distance. 

“Look at you, you’re perfectly preserved--”

Brian flinched away from a hand that rose to touch him, but despite the obvious threat his gun dangled uselessly in his grasp. “Are you going to kill me?” he choked out.

Soren, much to Brian’s concern, laughed. This was not the Soren he had known and loved, this man was the twisted remnants, skewed and shifted into someone cruel by two hundred years of the wasteland and the agony as his body fell apart around him. He knew more about surviving out there than Brian did. By comparison, Brian was a child facing a nightmarish monster.

“No, no. Don’t worry, your life is safe. Your heart will still beat on...however…” Soren gave a pointed glance into the shadows and moments later a shuffling, dragging sound filled Brian’s ears.

“You weren’t hard to find,” Soren boasted, tearing Brian’s attention away from whatever was approaching. “You’ve been busy upsetting a lot of people haven’t you? And then you have the idiocy to announce your whereabouts on the radio, which brings me up to speed.”

Soren stepped back and Brian locked eyes with Needles. Needles who so long ago had been responsible for his missing tooth. Whose friends had died because of him. Needles, who had always been watching, waiting, and biding her time, reporting back to Soren and seeking an indirect revenge. Her smug grin showed she had no doubt profited from delivering Brian to Soren, but the sight of who she dragged alongside her sent Brian’s entire mind into a whirl of panic. 

“No!” Brian shrieked, immediately losing his cool. “What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s not a part of this!”

“Isn’t he?” Soren snarled. He prowled over to RedEye, taking pleasure in the way he shrank back. Soren traced a finger beneath his chin in an almost affectionate gesture. “So this is who you chose to replace me with? Did he remind you of me? If he did then honestly Brian, I’m insulted.”

“Soren please, this isn’t you. Let him go.” Brian could hear the clicks as pistols aimed at him had their safety turned off. “I thought you were dead! You-- the old Soren would have wanted me to move on. He would have wanted me to be happy--”

Roughly Soren pushed RedEye away from him. “Would you even have still loved me like this? I know you, Brian, better than this idiot disc jockey ever will, and I know you would have left me. Does he know that? That the moment he’s not pretty, you’ll leave. When he runs his course of usefulness, off you’ll go to the next one.”

“No!” Brian protested, “you know that’s not true!”

“Oh did I touch a nerve?” Soren smirked. “Calm down, because you and me and ugh,  _ Red Eye _ \- honestly, what is with you people and your stupid names?- We are going to play a game.”

“What?”

“Yeah! You like games, don’t you? We’re going to have fun...well, I will.”

Suddenly without warning, many pairs of hands were upon Brian with such swiftness that he was taken entirely off guard. His gauss rifle was torn from him and he was restrained with gripping fingers and firm hands that forced him into a battered office chair. Either side of him two guards stood with their guns aimed at his head. Fearfully, Brian’s eyes darted from Soren to RedEye to Needles who watched with malicious glee. 

“Ungag loudmouth,” Soren instructed, waving a hand at Needles who sharply ripped off the duct tape covering RedEye’s mouth. “Bring him up here.”

Roughly RedEye was shoved into a seat opposite Brian, his hands remained bound but he was close enough so Brian could see dried blood around his nostrils and the swollen, shiny skin of a black eye. 

“Are you okay?” Brian whispered urgently.

“Oh how sweet,” Soren snorted, interrupting before RedEye even had a chance to process the words. “Brian! Quick question, if I gave you the option to go free right now and you’ll never hear from me again, would you take it?”

Brian was smarter than to simply agree to terms like those. “What’s the deal?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Ah yes, smart trader never gets a bum deal right? All you have to do is shoot him. Kill him and you’re free to go.”

“I’m not doing that!”

“Hm, what about you?” Soren turned his attention to RedEye. “Shoot him and you’re free to go back to your radio station and your silly songs and we’ll forget all about you.”

To Brian’s horror, RedEye did not answer immediately. He was hesitant, his eyes glazed and staring into the middle distance. He did not look at Soren when he finally spoke, “all I have to do is shoot him?”

“RedEye, what the fuck!”

Soren laughed loudly, taking a gun from the hand of one of the shadowy assistants. “Oh Brian,” he chuckled, “you play with raiders and this sort of thing happens. Don’t you know what they’re like? They’re all scum who’ll do anything to save their own skin. After all, you’re one of them.”

“He’s lying!” Brian screamed at RedEye, “he’s not gonna let anyone go free!”

“Oh shut up, Brian. Let the man make his own decisions. Needles, cut him free.”

Obediently Needles sliced through the tape that bound RedEye’s wrists, and very slowly he moved his arms so his hands were lying in his lap. Roughly Soren shoved a gun toward him.

“Shoot him.”

“Baby, no!” Brian pleaded, his eyes wide. “Soren, stop this. This is sick. Don’t make him do this!”

“I’m not making him do anything, it’s his call.” Soren was pleased when he felt the gun taken from him. RedEye held it loosely, staring down at it in silence. “Go on,” Soren encouraged.

“Russell!” Brian begged, his eyes wide with fear. 

Soren hooted with laughter. “Russell? I guess that explains why he uses a nickname!” Ghoulishly he grinned, watching the spectacle unfold in front of him, eager to see what would happen and what his captives would do. 

“Sorry, Bri. I...shit, I just wanna go home--”

“He’s lying! Why won’t you listen? You’re not this stupid!”

The gunshot rang out and Brian screamed. His breathing came hard and fast, his eyes screwed up tight and his hands curled into fists, but he was alive. He slowly opened his eyes and glanced over his body, looking for the wound before he looked up to Soren.

“Blanks!” Soren laughed, “you think I’m so stupid to give either of you a loaded gun? But I think we learned an important lesson just now, didn’t we?”

With eyes round as saucers, Brian slowly turned to look at RedEye who he realised was not looking at him. The pistol dangled limply in his fingers as if he was unaware of it. Soren snatched it from him before it had a chance to fall.

“I want you to know, Brian, that whatever I decide to do to you, this man will not save you. He’s more concerned with saving himself-”

“Can we go now?” RedEye interrupted in a dull voice. 

“Oh my  _ god _ , if you interrupt me one more time I am going to end this right now with a bullet in your head,” snarled Soren. He quickly composed himself before turning back to Brian. “Really, Brian, how do you stand this idiot? I’ve had just about enough of him and his constant talking and no matter how many chems I pump into him he still won’t shut the fuck up. This is the quietest he’s ever been. Do you know how long I’ve had to spend listening to his inane radio show?”

“Soren,” Brian began as calmly as he could, “what do you want?”

“I want you to suffer the way you let me suffer. I am going to take everything from you until you know what it feels like to have your life torn apart at the seams. I’m not going to kill you - you don’t deserve that. Obviously seeing how much I’ve suffered doesn’t affect you, but let’s see what happens if I do this--” 

With a swift movement, Soren raised his pistol and brought it down with a crack across RedEye’s face. RedEye screamed, his hands flying to the point of impact. Brian shrieked and in a knee-jerk reaction leapt to his feet but firm hands pulled him back down to his seat, fingers gripping so tight that they dug into his skin through the fabric of his coat.

“You broke my nose!” RedEye howled. Blood trickled through his fingers, streaming down his arms until it dripped from his elbows.

“Want me to hit him again?” Soren cackled, his eyes wild and his arm raised.

“No! Leave him alone!”

Towering over Brian, Soren glared down with his gun raised although he hesitated and ultimately tossed it to one side. In that moment Brian saw his chance; Soren was unarmed and his guards had loosened their grip and stepped back on the assumption that their boss had things under control. With a burst of strength Brian lunged forward - he was physically no match for Soren, who had always been larger and taller, but he had the element of surprise. The ghoul yelled as Brian cannonballed into him, knocking them both to the ground, and Brian went straight for his throat. His teeth snapped and blood sprayed. He gagged at the taste of rotten flesh, and in doing so allowed Soren a chance to shove him away and spring to his feet. 

“You little shit!” Soren bawled. He staggered forward, hand held to his neck as he snatched at Brian. 

Brian was fast, but not fast enough. A fist caught him, knocking him back to the ground and Soren’s full weight was on top of him. “You son of a bitch, I’m going to kill you and I’m going to kill your stupid boyfriend. When I’m done, no one will even remember your name,  _ Bloodmouth _ .”

Blow after blow rained down on Brian. He knew he didn’t have the strength to throw Soren from him, but he snapped his teeth, aiming bites every time Soren came close enough. Eventually his teeth sank into flesh and he twisted his head sharply, Soren’s screech of pain filling his ears. When Brian spat out what he had bitten off, he realised that by some stroke of luck, he had taken an entire finger.

Soren bounded to his feet, holding his hand and swearing loudly. “Fuck….fucking, Needles, take this fucking animal and lock him away.” He hissed and focused on his finger while Brian felt himself roughly and swiftly picked up from the floor. “Put the other one away too, I’ll deal with them later.”


	22. Soren's Game I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Gore and violence!

“We have to get out of here,” Brian muttered for what felt like the hundredth time. 

He had been locked in what appeared to have once been a janitor’s closet; RedEye had been thrown in after him but he hadn’t contributed anything other than sitting silently in a corner with his hands cradling his face. Who knew how much time they had before Soren returned, and when he did...Brian didn’t want to know what he would do. Carefully he was examining everything in the closet, looking for a weapon. As he hunted around, he realised he would need RedEye to be coherent so he began talking to him as he searched.

“RedEye, can you hear me?” Brian glanced over his shoulder. For a few seconds there was no response but RedEye’s eyes eventually flicked upward to look at Brian. “Good,” Brian continued, “we’re gonna get out of here.” He picked up things from the shelves, turning them over. Several things he habitually slid inside the baggy pockets of his coat. “I’m getting us out and we’re going to kill everyone who put us here.”

With a deep sigh, Brian realised there was nothing truly useful that he could scavenge. He crouched down beside RedEye and looked at his bloodied face. His pupils were massive, dilated so barely any of the brown of his eyes was still visible. When he tracked Brian’s movements, he did so in a sluggish way. 

“Oh baby, what did they do to you?” 

“I wanna go home,” RedEye muttered, his voice thick and congested with blood. 

Brian raised a hand to run through RedEye’s hair, his lips parted to utter a response but at that moment the door was yanked open and into the room strode Needles, a machete dangling in her hand.

“Recess is over boys! Don’t look so sad, we’re gonna have so much fun, ain’t that right  _ Bloodmouth _ ? Come on, up! Don’t wanna keep the boss man waitin’!” Coldly she stared at RedEye, who showed no signs acknowledging her presence. “What’s wrong with him?”

“You tell me,” Brian snapped. At once he was on his feet, but Needles swung her machete, the blade grazing the fabric of Brian’s coat.

“Don’t,” she warned. “You know I’d kill you. I’d run you through until there wasn’t a drop of blood left in your body but ways I see it an’ from what I’ve heard, Soren deserves it more.” Her voice rose, “now move your ass an’ don’t do nothin’ stupid.”

Roughly, Needles grabbed Brian’s wrist, twisting his arm behind his back. With a swift kick, Needles ushered him on his way and the door clanged shut behind them both.

“That idiot is too fuckin’ high to know what’s goin’ on,” Needles growled, “I’m gonna leave him in there to cry over his bust nose. Maybe we’ll keep him alive after all. Nuka World needs its radio host more than it needs you.” She hesitated, eyes on her captive. “Y’know he was gonna die, not you. You was gonna be set free but you shouldn’ta bit the boss. Shit, Bloodmouth, if you stopped actin’ like a wild animal you wouldn’t be so screwed right now.”

Brian remained silent, his teeth firmly biting into his tongue in an effort not to rise to Needles’ baiting words. He was streered back into the main concourse of the refinery, back to the sweltering heat and the now familiar chair.

In the centre of the room stood Soren, a bandage wrapped around his hand and neck, already stained with blood. Idly he was toying with a knife, and his eyes only flicked up briefly at Brian’s return. Needles ushered Brian back to his chair, shoving him down into it. Silence hung in the air until the tension became uncomfortable and Soren spoke, tucking his knife into his belt.

“I’m really tired of your bullshit. I know I said I wasn’t going to kill you, and honestly Brian when have I ever lied to you? But fuck that. You’re a dead man.”

Brian took a deep breath but still he refused to speak. He refused to let Soren see any kind of fear. Gone were the days when he was able to predict Soren’s actions and know how his mind worked, this man in front of him was virtually a stranger. A wild, dangerous, erratic stranger whose behaviour seemed to change at the push of a button.

“Got nothing to say?” Soren snapped. In two strides he was directly in front of Brian and after a beat, he dropped down into his lap. “Not like you to be so silent. You’re on a timer here, so I’d make the most of your ability to speak while you still have it.”

“Fuck do you want me to say?”

“Oh I don’t know, why don’t you tell me about how the stock market works again. I always loved listening to that over and over and over.” 

Lazily as if they were as close as they once had been, Soren trailed a hand through Brian’s hair, but his closeness and his affectionate actions simply came across as a cruel, mocking parody. Beneath Soren’s weight, Brian shuffled, but he knew there was no way he could break free with any ease. He was also convinced that Soren wouldn’t kill him quickly and that he was going to suffer if he didn’t turn the tables. Soren seemed to read Brian’s silence like a book, a smug expression twisting his facial features. Casually he leaned back and pulled out his knife, toying with it.

“Bite me again and I’ll pull out each and every one of your teeth,” Soren warned. He tapped the blade of his knife against Brian’s chin. “Guess that’s why you call yourself Bloodmouth, huh?”

“Yeah something like that.”

“Aw Bri, you never used to be so quiet!” Soren laughed before lowering his voice so the others in the room would have to strain to hear him, his features softening slightly. “Tell me, did you miss me?”

He seemed almost amiable as he waited for an answer, an answer that Brian found painful to give.

“I missed the Soren I knew, but that isn’t you.” Brian closed his eyes and swallowed. “Fuck, I missed him—”

“ _ Me _ . You missed  _ me _ .”

Brian’s eyes flicked open. “No. I missed him. Soren, my Soren...I loved him. You have no idea how much.” Brian laughed a cold, bitter laugh, “I found the one man who reminded me of him and I didn’t even realise I was doing it until one night I’m watching him play guitar and I’m suddenly reminded of an evening on the balcony in Manhattan...you remember that, right?”

Soren tilted his head. He looked, despite the obvious jarring differences, like his old self for a fleeting moment that caused Brian’s heart to jump. He knew Soren remembered the moment too, that there was no way he didn’t miss his life before the war on at least some level.

“Do you love him?” Soren asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes.”

Soren drew in a deep breath but whatever moment he had been sharing with Brian was gone. The spell was broken and he suddenly seemed to become aware of himself. Firmly Soren pushed himself up and back to his feet. He strode several steps away, turning in a slow circle as he addressed the room.

“What should I do with the infamous Bloodmouth?” Soren asked the shadowy crowd with the excitement of a game show host.

Brian flinched as some of the suggestions reached his ears but his eyes never left Soren for a moment as the ghoul strode back and forth considering the gruesome requests and hyping his audience.

“A good idea!” Soren eventually called into the crowd. “We’ll start with that!”

Brian’s instinct was to back away when Soren locked eyes with him, murderous intent gleaming in them. Soren prowled closer, dragging with him the chair that RedEye had once used. He dropped into it when he was an arm’s length from Brian. 

“You bit off my finger. Do you know how much that hurt?”

“A lot?” Brian offered.

“You’re damn right it hurt a lot, but I’m curious now, was it easy to bite through my ah, slightly  _ necrotic  _ skin, or do you just have a lot of practice?”

“That’s why I’m called Bloodmouth. I uh...I bite people.” Saying that out loud made Brian cringe in embarrassment. It was one thing to be Bloodmouth amongst people who only knew him as such, but Soren knew he was nothing but an angry little stock trader, and he could see the amusement glinting in his eyes.

“Remember when you used to use your mouth to secure millions of dollars? I guess with no stock exchange, you had to find something useful to do with it.”

“I don’t just use it for biting people.”

Immediately Brian regretted his words as the humour drained from Soren’s face. It seemed that despite everything, Soren was not happy with the idea that Brian had moved on, nor what he had unintentionally implied. Soren spun his knife. Beneath his lowered brows his eyes were trained on Brian’s hands. In a swift movement that Brian couldn’t have predicted, Soren swiped him by the wrist.

“You’re so skinny,” Soren observed. “I bet you miss the days when you lived with me, the best baker in Manhattan.”

Brian didn’t think for a second that Soren just wanted to hold his hand. He ignored the comments about his weight, his eyes focused intently on where Soren’s hand held him. Experimentally he tried to pull his arm away but the fingers only tightened.

“No, no, no,” Soren tutted. “You try to get away and I promise you this is going to be so much worse.”

With his free hand Soren thoughtfully spun his knife before he decided to jab it into the wood of his chair, leaving it aside.

“There’s something been bothering me for all these years. Not about you, don’t flatter yourself. But maybe you know the answer. See, I once read or heard or something that a human can bite through a little finger with just the same pressure that it takes to bite through a carrot? Is that true? I mean, you would know.”

Brian swallowed hard and suddenly he knew what was going on. With a tremendous effort he quashed the panic that was rising in his gut, and when he spoke he had to fight to keep his voice level.

“I think that’s bullshit.”

“You think? Because you seemed to have no trouble biting off my finger.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Brian could see no way out of this. He curled his hand into a fist: if anything he was not going to make it easy for Soren.

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” Soren’s eyes flicked from Brian’s fist to his face. “Don’t be an idiot, you’re just going to make it worse.”

The movement was so swift and so unexpected that Brian had no time to counter. His free hand was grabbed and the unfurled fingers crushed into a fist. All except the little finger which remained free, poking out from Soren’s hand. Brian yelled as he felt teeth press into his flesh. He struggled and thrashed, caught in a wild panic, but the teeth pressed harder. 

“No! Stop it!” Then he was screaming, much to the satisfaction of his audience. The pain in his hand was immense as teeth ground through skin and flesh. Brian fought the urge to be sick. Enamel struck against bone, blood was pouring down his arm and tears of pain pooled in his eyes. At least when he bit people he didn’t go so painfully slow. 

Around Brian’s finger, Soren pulled back his lips in a grin. He let his teeth linger motionless for a few moments before clamping his jaws together more firmly. The slender bone protested, but was ultimately no match. With a splintering crack, Soren’s teeth closed together and Brian screamed. 

His finger was gone. A ragged stump of splintered bone and gore all that remained when Soren pulled his head away. Brian didn’t see Soren spit out the severed digit, he couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, his eyes screwed tightly closed and his breathing ragged. 

Soren wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and sat back to watch until he became bored with Brian’s hysterics.

“Shut the fuck up. You didn’t see me causing such a scene.” He whirled on his heel to face his audience once more. “What next?” Soren called out to his followers.

Soren prowled back and forth, seeking inspiration while Brian remained motionless, attempting to quash his pain. Through bleary eyes, Brian watched; he was unsure how much he could take or where the tortures would go since Soren was nothing if not unpredictable. Desperately he racked his brain in an attempt to think of some magic words that would calm the ghoul’s anger. Nothing came to him, but perhaps if he distracted Soren then he would put aside the painful punishments for a short time.

“Soren,” Brian yelled. 

Instantly a bemused silence fell upon the crowd and many sets of eyes turned to look in Brian’s direction. Soren narrowed his eyes and after a beat he skulked forward.

“Yes?”

“Soren, I know you’re angry...but this is between you and me. Can you at least let RedEye go?”

“Give me one reason why I should. A good reason. Not something from a romance movie.”

Brian breathed deeply - he had Soren’s attention so all he had to do was keep talking, keep him occupied. 

“He’s got nothing to do with this. Let...let him go and be happy. It’s not his fault that I barged into his life.”

Soren raised an eyebrow. He looked contemplative but only for a moment before he laughed a cruel laugh.

“Listen, Brian, his life means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing, and after the time I’ve spent with him he has annoyed me so deeply that snuffing out his pointless existence would be a pleasure. You know I was just going to kill him to make you suffer, he’s just a pawn. An annoying one.”

“Is that why you killed my cat too?” 

Soren hesitated and tilted his head in such a way that said he had no clue what Brian was referring to. 

“Your cat?”

“My cat! Her name was Bottlecap and...I was meant to keep her safe! I thought you liked cats but I guess you don’t like anything anymore-”

A sharp bark of laughter cut through Brian’s speech, and immediately both he and Soren turned in the direction of the sound. They were met with the sight of Needles, who looked boastful and delighted. Soren’s eyes narrowed to slits, and Needles realised too late the animosity and iciness radiating from them. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Soren asked, his voice dangerously low. 

For the moment Brian was forgotten as Soren stalked closer to Needles, coming to a standstill and looming over her. She looked suitably nervous.

“Nothin’. I ain’t done nothin’,” she protested quickly.

Soren rolled his eyes to the ceiling, a quiet tut escaping his mouth. “You know how much I hate liars, so unless you want to end up like Red then you better tell me the truth. Let’s try again - what did you do?”

Needles faltered and took a step back, but just as quick as she moved, Soren’s hand lashed out to grab her arm and yank her to him. She flinched as his fingers tightened, squeezing painfully.

“Alright! Alright! I just thought I’d teach ‘im a lesson! Make him wanna come out here so he knew we was serious an’ not fuckin’ about! What’s a cat matter? You got the guy you was lookin’ for!”

Soren sighed deeply. He looked physically pained by the admission, his eyes closed for several seconds before he wearily opened them once again.

“You’ve done well, Needles. I was almost proud of you. I almost thought I could call you a friend perhaps, but there are certain things I cannot let go unpunished-”

In a flash of movement, Soren snatched his knife from his belt. A scream, shrill and horrified echoed through the refinery, so both Brian and Soren’s henchmen winced. Needles’ screaming seemed to go on for hours and even when Soren let her fall to the ground and turned away, strolling back to Brian as casually and cooly as if he had simply been enjoying a mild chat, she still shrieked.

“Brian, I am sorry about your cat. You know full well I would never hurt a cat.”

Soren folded his arms and Brian’s eyes were drawn to the knife that still dangled between his fingertips - impaled upon the end was a single, bloody eyeball. 

“Soren, what the hell…” Brian breathed. A surge of fear pumped through his veins along with a rising sense of panic that he was going to die here. Short of a miracle there was no conceivable way that he could escape.

“Take five,” Soren called to his henchmen. “My good mood has been ruined.”

 


	23. Soren's Game II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot about posting updates to this, oops.

Soren had stalked away, leaving Brian to deal with the waves of pain from his hand and the wailing of Needles. He did not know how long he stiffly remained in one position, nails of his good hand digging into his palm, although over time the refinery lapsed back into silence save for shuffling of the henchmen who guarded him, and crackling of the fires. 

Although his mind felt fogged with pain, Brian eventually forced himself to look around and make an attempt to gain his bearings and plot a way to escape. He could no longer see Needles who had moved on from the space she had lay bawling for so long. Brian realised in dismay that he had become completely disoriented - he could identify where he had been taken and stored in the janitor’s closet, but he could no longer recall where the entrance was. Carefully he studied the smelting pots that bubbled with liquid metal, but they wouldn’t help him. All around him came industrial sounds - metal creaking and groaning, machinery banging and a faint trickling sound.

Brian tilted his head, trying to hone in on the trickling - was it water? Had something begun leaking? He dismissed the sound just as quickly since water in such a small amount wouldn’t help him even as he could see it begin spreading in a glistening pool into the centre of the refinery. He turned his attention to the shadowy figures that moved in the darkness, unidentifiable but all of them focused on their sole captive.

Everything, Brian thought, seemed hopeless. He couldn’t see any way out, and he could hear the thudding of Soren’s footsteps that announced his return.

One of the shadowy figures struck a match presumably to light a cigarette, the sharp little light catching Brian’s attention. In an instant he could see Needles’ face illuminated by the fire and he caught an expression of malice that sent a chill through him.

“Let’s get this over with,” Soren announced as he stepped into the room once again. 

Brian’s eyes were instinctively drawn to Soren but from the corner of his vision he saw Needles toss the match to the ground. 

In the bat of an eyelid, everything erupted into chaos.

“What the fu—” Soren’s voice called out, but he was cut off as fire rapidly scorched through the concourse, consuming what Brian immediately realised had not been water, but gasoline. 

The fire caught quickly, fueled by the myriad of flammable materials and dangerous chemicals that had been stored for centuries, their protective canisters rusted and leaking. People were suddenly screaming and Soren’s henchmen were scattered, running for their lives. As the fire spread, stored cans of Mr Handy fuel succumbed to the scorching heat, exploding in ear-splitting booms.

Brian seized his chance, and he bolted from his chair, fleeing while the guards and Soren were distracted. Around him the ancient ironworks cracked and whined as the fire spread, flames licking over anything flammable. Soren’s henchmen, no longer interested in Brian, pushed and shoved, disappearing in and out of sight through clouds of thick, toxic smoke. Brian pulled his tank top up and over his mouth and nose. Between two groaning support beams was a small gap which led to the stairs, and seizing his chance, Brian darted toward it, squeezing through and into cool darkness. 

He couldn’t rest. Not for long. Coughing and spluttering, Brian began climbing the concrete stairs. He remembered that the janitor’s cupboard he had been thrown into was somewhere upstairs. He couldn’t just leave RedEye to burn - this time if he died, then he would die with the person he loved rather than saving himself. With that in mind, he began running.

Most of Soren’s henchmen had scattered toward the main exit, causing a bottleneck of trampled and crushed bodies. In the darkness of the stairwell Brian could hear the pat of footsteps and occasionally he caught a glimpse of people moving nearby, but everyone was single mindedly focused on survival that they no longer cared about him. 

His vision obscured by smoke, his eyes watery and blurry, Brian didn’t notice until it was too late and he careened into a figure in the darkness with full force, staggering them both. For a moment he was too surprised to act, but then the bloody face of Needles came into his vision through the smoke. With her single eye, she glared at him - the source of all of this, and the tension hung thick.

“Let me through,” Brian choked, his voice muffled by his clothing.

To his surprise, Needles stepped aside. “Run away, Bloodmouth,” she gasped, “I don’t care what happens to ya. I’m done workin’ for that madman. I hope he burns.”

Brian blinked in surprise, but his body automatically moved to pass. He nodded at Needles in gratitude laced with suspicion, but she was already melting away into the darkness and smoke to save herself. Just like that she was forgotten and Brian was running again - he could worry about Needles later.

His heart pounded, his blood raged and rushed in his ears and his throat ached from exhaustion and smoke inhalation. When Brian skidded to a halt he all but slammed into the wall, his feet skittering across the metal floor. Habitually he reached out his dominant hand to yank open the door, screeching in pain as the ragged wound there reminded him of its presence. Brian gritted his teeth and tightened his remaining fingers around the door handle. He pulled. 

“Come on, get up!” Brian yelled as soon as the door was open. “Get up, we gotta go now!”

RedEye blinked at him as if completely oblivious to the chaos that raged behind Brian. His eyes followed the movement as Brian grabbed him by the hand and pulled.

“Get up!” Brian repeated, his voice choked with frustration and panic. “I’m not leaving you! Come on!”

Painfully slowly as if he had all the time in the world, RedEye shuffled to his feet. He looked at Brian expectantly and with some confusion but the little raider was already pulling him out into the flames.

Brian set his jaw and tugged. In a state of confusion, RedEye eventually trailed after him but their movements were slow. Below them the fire raged, flames licking at the walls and shimmering through the mesh below their feet. They had no choice but to go up, so that was where Brian led them. He didn’t know where they were going but he knew factories usually had some form of roof access and he was desperate to get outside. 

“Where are we going?” RedEye asked in an airy, disjointed sort of way. 

“Away from here. Come on, this way…”

An explosion shook the very air as a nearby turret succumbed to the heat and shattered into pieces. Brian yelled and shielded his face. The direction the turret had been in looked to lead to a door where the flames had not yet reached. He glanced down and swallowed; the only way across was via an old catwalk. Cautiously Brian set foot on the mesh and stepped forward. He was jolted as he realised RedEye wasn’t following him.

“What are you doing?” Brian cried, “you have to follow me!”

RedEye shook his head fearfully. 

“Please! Just do this one thing.” Brian’s voice cracked and feebly he tugged RedEye’s hand.

“We’ll die,” RedEye bluntly said, his eyes fixed on the catwalk.

“We’ll die if you don’t move! Please...come on. I swear you won’t die. I swear!” 

Tears of frustration welled in Brian’s already stinging eyes. He returned to solid ground, he reached up, grabbed RedEye and roughly he pulled him down so they were at eye level. For a beat Brian stared into unfocused, bleary eyes, his hands gripping either side of RedEye’s face. 

“I love you. I’m not leaving you, but you have to follow me or we’re both going to die.”

Brian took a step backwards, and his hands tugged at RedEye in the hope that he would follow when he was effectively blinkered. To his relief RedEye suspiciously took a single step forward, placing the sole of his boot onto the creaking, ancient metal. 

“Don’t look down,” advised Brian. “Look at me.”

The catwalk creaked and groaned as they began their slow passage. Flames licked ever closer until the heat could be felt through their shoes. Brian kept his eyes fixed on RedEye until he could feel solid concrete beneath his boots. They had made it. He glanced back over RedEye’s shoulder and immediately his relieved grin and rewarding words disappeared. From across the catwalk Soren was watching them. 

“Oh fuck...fuck, come on we gotta go.” 

Brian roughly shoved RedEye in the direction of the door.

“You can’t run away from me,” Soren yelled. “No matter what happens, Brian, I’m always going to find you.”

As if it were a mere walk in the park, Soren began casually strolling over the catwalk, his hands in his pockets.

“If you left him behind, you know, like you left me behind, then you could run.”

Brian, trapped and dangerously close to succumbing to panic, gave RedEye a firm shove. He turned and wildly stared in Soren’s direction. 

“So close to freedom, it’s right behind those doors,” Soren mocked. “As for me, this is just a minor inconvenience. I’ve been burned before, I don’t think there’s enough left of me to get hurt.”

“Will you just go?” Brian hissed at RedEye. “Just go through the doors and you’ll be out of here.” 

“That’d be good. Man, it’s hot in here.”

Left with no other choice, Brian darted over to the doors with his eyes flicking between Soren and RedEye. He began pulling at the handle, smearing blood across the metal as it began to slowly raise. He swore he saw victory on Soren’s face when he glanced over.

The doors were unlocked when Soren had crossed. Smugly he stood and watched the spectacle before him. Brian whirled away from the doors. He swiftly placed himself between Soren and RedEye and he stared fiercely at the ghoul. 

“What is this?” Soren asked with a laugh in his voice. 

“If I’m dying here then you’re coming with me. You’re way past your sell by date.”

Soren rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Nuclear fire couldn’t kill me.  _ This  _ fire couldn’t kill me. The wasteland couldn’t kill me. But you, little day trader raider, you’re going to kill me? Brian, if anyone is dying today; it’s you.”

Brian shifted his weight, ready for the attack. He took a deep breath, the hot and heavy air causing him to cough and splutter, but he kept his eyes fixed on Soren.

“Oh come on, what are you going to fight me with?” Soren reached into the folds of his coat to pull out a ripper - the miniature chainsaw that was his preferred weapon. He grinned, “or are you going to bite me?”

“Maybe…” Brian dragged a breath in through a series of coughs - the air was getting thin as the fire sucked away the oxygen from the building. “Maybe I’m just gonna run away…”

Soren tilted his head in bemusement and Brian sharply turned to the unlocked door.  _ Please let this work _ , he thought frantically. Knowing he had only one chance, he threw his full weight at RedEye who was still dawdling by the exit. The pair of them collided and tumbled against the door, forcing it open. RedEye wailed in surprise, staggering over himself through a haze of disorientation but Brian’s hands grabbed at him to pull him down to the ground.

“Stay down!” 

In a split second the sudden rush of air from the open door sucked the flames higher. Brian lay flat with one arm shielding his face and the other firmly pressing RedEye down. Searing heat scorched at them and through the pounding in his ears and the frantic thump of his heart, Brian could hear a guttural, furious scream from Soren. 

“Come on,” Brian hissed. He wasn’t about to lie in the grit and gravel of the rooftop to burn so he began a shuffle on his stomach, scuffing away from the exit. “Follow me.”

The pair of raiders dragged themselves through the dirt until they were able to stagger to their feet and lurch out of danger. 

Brian gasped, dragging the cool air into his lungs: the chill air of the rooftop was welcome despite the plumes of smoke all around them. Back and forth Brian began darting, desperately seeking an escape route but every exit was blocked by fire or rubble. Scaffolding swung uselessly from the decrepit old building. Was this it? He had come this far only to die now at the last hurdle. 

“Fuck,” Brian wailed, skidding to a halt. 

Defeat rising like bile, he trailed back to RedEye who stood staring up at the night sky, swinging his arms lazily.

“We’re good?” RedEye asked.

Brian had no answer to that question. He stepped closer until he could press his face into RedEye’s bloodied, stained shirt. This couldn’t be how he died. He couldn’t let Soren win, not after everything. Villains weren’t supposed to win. He felt RedEye’s arms wrap around him as casually as if they were back at home. 

Maybe, Brian thought with a sudden jolt, maybe  _ I’m _ the villain. Maybe I deserve this and maybe Soren deserves to win.

“No,” Brian finally answered. “We’re not. I think this is it. I think he won.”


	24. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this whole thing!

Brian dragged in a deep, ragged breath. His coat, heavy and waterlogged, weighed him down so it was with shaky arms that he clawed his way onto the muddy riverbank. Wheezing, he flopped down, only now aware of the pain that pulsed through his body. By Brian’s side, RedEye lay motionless on his back, the rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. 

“We survived,” Brian gasped. 

He weakly rolled over to stare at the burning warehouse across the water. Maybe he really was the luckiest man alive. He had only wanted to end their suffering rather than allow it to linger or for Soren to emerge from the flames and have the final say. 

When he had jumped he had expected to be dashed on the ground below, just another body left to rot in the Commonwealth. But water had surrounded him. There was a river running alongside the ironworks: only on the side he had chosen to jump from. He had spluttered and choked. The current had dragged him down but he had fought and he had survived.

“Yeah...yeah we did,” RedEye vaguely responded, his voice nasally and his words still slightly slurred. He rolled his head to face Brian.

In response Brian turned his own head, and for a moment the two men simply looked at one another in silence. Perhaps waiting for the other one to speak. Brian became aware of RedEye’s fingers reaching to take hold of his own, and he gripped them as if holding them would keep him grounded and save his life. As if this small, minor physical contact was the most important thing in the world, and for that moment Brian supposed it was; it was evidence that they had survived, that this wasn’t an illusion or a dream, that they were together despite everything. Lady Luck had smiled upon them both.

“Do you think he’s dead?”

Brian hesitated. As he gazed up at the burning refinery he wasn’t sure how anyone could have survived. But hadn’t he survived? Hadn’t RedEye survived? Soren had burned once before - he had lived when Manhattan had died around him and he had come back. If he was still alive, he would be fueled by an anger even worse than that which had consumed him already. 

“I don’t know,” Brian ultimately answered. A shiver travelled down the length of his spine that caused him to tear his eyes away from the ironworks. “New Yorkers are hard to kill.”

 


End file.
